The Cursed Past
by Lostariella
Summary: When someone from the past resurfaces to threaten Rivendell, Aragorn goes missing, and suffers miserably at the hands of Elrond's enemy. Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas are intent on finding their brother and friend, but at what cost? Can Elrond protect his sons from the vengeful stranger before it is too late?
1. The Beginning

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The Cursed Past

 **Rating:** PG-13 for future chapters.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any recognizable character, setting, place and so on, in Middle Earth. It belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Any other characters or locations are of my own creations.

 **Summary:** When someone from the past resurfaces to threaten Rivendell, Aragorn and Legolas go missing, and Elladan and Elrohir receive mysterious injuries. Can Elrond protect his sons from the vengeful stranger before it is too late?

 **Author's Note:** I am aware that some of the history and events in this story may not be correct, but if this bothers you please notify me and I will do my best to fix them. This is my first fic ever, so please don't get too judgy! If you have any ideas of where this story should go, alert me and I will be happy to include your ideas in my stories.

Chapter 1

As Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Rivendell walked into the Hall of Fire one soft spring morning, he was surprised to find his youngest son already sitting at the table. Estel's silver eyes sparkled in greeting, and he wore a mischievous smile on his face.

"Good morning _ada._ "

Estel looked up at him with innocent eyes, but he failed in preventing a grin that was forming at the corner of his lips.

"Why are you up so early _ion nin_?"

Elrond decided that whatever Estel was planning, he would be safer much further away from him. As he settled down in an armchair, leaving a few seats between them, his son answered.

"Oh, no special reason, _ada_ , I awoke with the spring sun and decided to come down for some breakfast."

Suddenly, an infuriated roar came from the room upstairs.

"ESTEL!"

Elrond was positive that Elladan's roar could be heard all throughout Imladris.

"And that's my cue to go", Estel said hastily, "I'll see you later this afternoon _ada"._

"Wait, Aragorn, remember Legolas is arriving today. I am sure he would be disappointed if his best friend was not here to welcome him".

Aragorn's grey eyes lit up. "Of course I will be here, father, it has been almost six months since Legolas last visited!"

The doors to the Hall of Fire abruptly swung open, and hit the walls with a loud bang. A fair skinned elf with raven black hair stood in the opening, his grey eyes steely in anger. Elrond opened his mouth, about to scold Elladan for his treatment of the doors, but clamped it shut when he lifted his eyes to the older twin's face.

Estel stifled a laugh. Elladan's usually perfect dark hair was covered in small pink plastic flowers.

"Sweet Eru, Aragorn, what did you do?" Asked a baffled Elrond.

"What did he do? WHAT DID HE DO? He glued flowers into my hair! Pink flowers! And they won't come out!" Elladan yelled.

Aragorn roared with laughter. Behind Elladan, a sleepy but cheerful Elrohir walked through the open doors.

"Elladan calm down. The glue will dissolve in less than twenty-four hours. You only have to walk around looking like a young elleth for today!" Elrohir snorted, unsuccessfully trying to mask his amusement.

Elladan whirled on him. "You were involved in this?" He lunged at his twin. Elrohir nimbly darted out of the way.

"It was Estel's idea! All I did was give him the recipe for the glue and-"

"You are only digging yourself a deeper grave, brother," said Elladan heatedly.

"Calm down, all of you!" Cried Elrond, "Prince Legolas is arriving today, and I will not have my sons acting like mere elflings! Estel, I suggest you and Elrohir go and prepare a spare room for the prince, and Elladan, I advise you not to leave the halls until the glue has dissolved, and those cursed flowers come out."

Unsuccessfully hiding their smirking faces, Estel and Elrohir went to prepare a spare chamber. Elladan stalked off to his room, leaving Elrond alone in the Hall of Fire.

"Great Valar, why was I cursed with such immature sons?" Elrond thought to himself. But as fate would have it, the twins' troublemaking ways had not been enough. He had been blessed with Estel, who was almost as difficult as the twins, if not more. And with Legolas on the way… Elrond would be surprised if they all survived until summer.

A few hours later, everything was more or less back to normal, apart from Elladan's hair, and the glaring stares he gave to his brothers that promised a gruesome, bloody death. Prince Legolas was set to arrive in less than an hour, and Estel could barely contain his excitement.

A few weeks ago, it had been Aragorn's twenty-second birthday. Legolas had not been able to come to Imladris, as he was assisting his father with the abundance of orcs that seemed to be appearing in Mirkwood. But relenting to the prince's pleads, Thranduil had sent Legolas to Rivendell with an escort of two elves.

Aragorn gazed at the clear, shimmering River Bruinen. He had come here to clear his head, as well as to get away from Elladan. Something didn't feel right. He couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that something was wrong with Legolas, that his elven friend needed his help. Pushing himself to his feet, he sprinted to the stables, chose a horse and rode out of Rivendell, in the direction of Mirkwood.

Legolas raised his twin blades, pushing them against a sword that had been about to detach his head from his body. Beside him, his elven escorts Tatharon and Haerelon fired arrows into the group surrounding them. What worried Legolas the most was that their attackers were not orcs. They were men. Usually, men wandering the forests around Rivendell were friendly, and would never dare cause harm to an elf. The prince's thoughts were distracted as another blade appeared out of nowhere, swinging toward his right arm. Moving to slow, the blade left a long cut down the length of Legolas's arm.

Jerking back in pain, the man took advantage of the weakness in Legolas's defences, and stepped toward him. The prince raised his bleeding arm in determination, driving his knife into the chest of his attacker. Taking this short reprieve, Legolas glanced around the clearing. Stumbling forward, Legolas was intercepted by an arrow, whizzing past him, missing him by inches. Taking the prince by surprise, the man was able to fire another arrow at Legolas. Dazed, the fair-haired prince did not have time to move out of the way. Suddenly, a shadow passed in front of him, and Legolas closed his eyes, ready for the arrow to hit him. Nothing came. Instead he heard a loud thud.

Opening his eyes, he looked down. Haerelon lay on his stomach, an arrow embedded in his back, dead at Legolas's feet. Dropping to his knees, Legolas grasped Haerelon shoulders and turned him over. His face was bruised and dirty, and his glazed blue eyes were lifeless. Legolas's heart sank. He hadn't known the elf well, but he did know that Haerelon was a loyal elf, proud of his service to the king. It hurt to lose good warriors.

Looking up, the fair-haired elf saw Tatharon standing in front of him. He bore a few cuts and bruises, but nothing life-threatening. His face flickered with grief as he looked at the fallen Haerelon. Legolas moaned slightly as the cut in his side burned, bleeding through his tunic.

Concerned, Tatharon stepped closer.

"Prince Legolas, are you alright?"

Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, Legolas replied. "Yes I am fine."

Putting his hand on Tatharon's shoulder, Legolas tried to comfort the grieving elf. "Haerelon was a good elf."

Tatharon gave a sad smile. "Yes, he died an honourable death. Protecting you and me."

Guilt immediately filled the prince's eyes. Haerelon had met his death defending him. Defending a member of the royal family that had never even taken the time to get to know him.

Tatharon saw this. "My prince, this is not your fault. Haerelon would be proud that he met his end defending you. This is what he trained for."

Even as he heard the words, Legolas didn't believe them. Haerelon did not deserve to die like that. The very least they could do was give him a peaceful resting place. But they did not have time. Legolas rose, his blue eyes shining in determination. "We must get to Rivendell".

TBC…

 _Ada – father_

 _Ion nin – my son_

 **Okay, this was the first chapter to my first fanfiction ever. I am incredibly nervous about this and if you want me to write more, please tell me! It would definitely help my confidence. Please review!**


	2. Lost

Chapter 2: Lost

A/N

Hi guys I am sorry that the first chapter was so short. Future chapters will be longer I promise! I am a little upset that I got quite a few views but no reviews. I have a very little amount of confidence in writing this, so please help me out! Anyway, onto the next chapter. There is NOT A LOT of action in this one, I'm sorry, but there will definitely be in the future.

Chapter 2

Aragorn urged his horse to go faster, until the trees they were racing through became a blur. Only one thought was in his mind. _He had to get to Legolas._ He had been riding for barely twenty minutes, and nothing he saw convinced him to stop.

As he dashed through a forest clearing, his horse suddenly reared. It was an elven steed, so Estel knew it wouldn't stop for no good reason. They skidded to a halt, and Estel slid off his horse.

Immediately he stopped. There had been a battle here. Bodies were strewn across the forest glade, and everything was washed in dried brown blood. He scanned the glade for any familiar faces, but found none. Surprised, he discovered all of the bodies were of men. But why would a group of men break out a fight among themselves…

Finally his eyes settled on a body at the edge of the clearing. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the facedown figure had long golden hair, and an elvish blade sheathed at his side.

He stumbled toward the observably dead body and turned the corpse over onto its back. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was not Legolas, but remained worried when he saw the fallen elf's blade was from Mirkwood. Legolas had left for Imladris with two guards. He surely would not have left the elf here without a proper burial unless they had no other choice.

He was distracted from his train of thought when suddenly he heard a soft rustle in the trees behind him, he whirled around, but it was too late. A searing pain erupted in his left shoulder, as if he had lava coursing through his veins instead of blood. In a painful haze, he chanced a look at his shoulder, to see an arrow shaft sticking out of it, the tip buried deeply in the wound.

He returned his attention to the man holding a drawn bow in his face, and the hooded figure behind him. "What are you doing in the woods of Rivendell?" he asked indignantly, trying to keep his agony from showing on his face.

The figure behind his attacker flicked back his hood. Astonished, Aragorn realized he was an elf. What elf would dare threaten a traveller in the forest of Imladris?

The elf ignored his question. "Yes, that is most definitely Lord Elrond's foster son. Why else would a young man be riding through Rivendell, on an elven horse, bearing elvish weapons?"

"What should we do, my lord?" The man with the bow asked gruffly.

"Grab him. Tie him up and _do not let him go_. He is an essential part of this plan if we want it to work."

In one quick, fluid movement that was too fast for Aragorn's eyes to follow, the elf had unsheathed his blade and dug it under his chin. "You don't understand it yet, _pen-neth_ , but you are going to play a part in the downfall of Lord Elrond."

Aragorn, although still in a pained daze, shot the elf a glare which seemed to go right through him. "I will _never_ be a part of your plans, not if I can help it."

Estel winced as the man behind him roughly bound his wrists together. "Oh, little human, I am afraid you cannot help it at all," the elf said slyly.

Legolas and Tarathon spurred their horses up to top speed, racing towards Rivendell. When the Last Homely House finally appeared on the horizon, the fair-haired prince sighed in relief. They had made it, and now the inhabitants of Imladris could be warned about the hostile strangers surrounding the forests.

Legolas and his dark-haired escort rode up to the gates, and quickly dismounted. Some elves came up and took their steeds to the stables, but Legolas didn't even notice. His eyes were fixed on Lord Elrond, as he came toward them to give a proper greeting. Immediately, the Lord of Imladris noticed something was wrong. Legolas's tunic was covered in blood, and his escort bore many cuts and bruises. And hadn't the prince been sent with two guards?

"Legolas, you need medical attention. Now," ordered Elrond.

"Elrond wait! We were attacked by-"

"Prince Legolas, you and your friend must be treated by a healer right away, and only then will I allow you to inform me of what has happened here."

"Lord Elrond, we were attacked by a group of men, no more than a half hour from Imladris!" Legolas stated indignantly.

Elrond tensed. "Men?" He said curiously.

At that moment, Elrohir walked up. "Legolas, this clearly must be discussed, but as of now, we need to escort you to the healing wing."

Legolas sighed, clearly defeated. His wounds ached and he felt as if he had not slept properly for days. "Fine. But where is Estel?"

"Elrohir, please go and inform Estel that Prince Legolas has arrived."

"Of course, _ada_ , where is he?"

"I believe he went to the Loudwater to escape Elladan."

Elrohir frowned. "No I just returned from the river. Estel was certainly not there."

Legolas began to feel uneasy. Something wasn't right.

"Maybe he is with Elladan, trying to apologize."

"I doubt that _ada_ , if Aragorn is in the same room as Elladan, one of them will not come out alive."

Elrohir paled. "Valar, I will go make sure they are not in the same room."

As soon as Elrohir left, Legolas's strong façade began to crumble, and he stumbled, leaning upon Tarathon for support.

"Now, why don't we get you two in the healing wing, shall we?"

When Aragorn awoke, it was dark. He forced his resisting eyelids open, closing them immediately when pain shot through his forehead. He concentrated slowly. His shoulder burned, but it was too dark to tell if the arrow was still in the wound. The side of his head ached, and he distantly recalled being struck by a club when his struggles proved too much for the men holding him. His wrists were bound tightly behind him, so tightly that his fingers felt numb.

Where was he? He seemed to be sitting on a hard, solid ground, with his back against a cool wall. He appeared to be alone. Wondering what he had got himself into this time, he shifted, trying to assess how bad his injuries really were. Apart from his shoulder wound and aching head, he felt quite good.

Hoping that his captors were not very efficient, he began to form an escape plan. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the screeching sound of metal on rock, and a harshly flickering light appeared in the brazier on the opposite wall.

The dark-haired ranger noticed two things. One, that he was in a cave, a dark, enclosed pocket of air. Second, he noticed the person lighting the braziers was a man, not an elf. He wondered if the elf had been a dream. Racking his brains, he could not think of a single elf who would willingly act against Lord Elrond.

"Oh look, the little rat is awake. You took a pretty hard hit to the head, boy." The man snorted.

Aragorn huffed angrily. Little? He was over a head taller than this insufferable man.

"Apparently, so did you," Aragorn murmured back.

"What was that, boy?"

"Nothing," the ranger said sarcastically.

Scowling, the man raised his hand and backhanded Estel, whipping his head back against the wall. Aragorn immediately turned his head back and lifted his steely grey eyes to the man's, blood dripping from a broken lip.

The man bent down, his large face looming in front of Estel. "That's only a taste of what's to come, boy. Better get used to it." He whispered.

Aragorn glared at the man, feeling a small spark of satisfaction when his attacker clearly became uncomfortable and turned to leave, pulling the heavy iron door shut behind him. Looking down at his burning shoulder, the ranger realised the arrow shaft had snapped and the tip was buried deep in his skin. Sighing in annoyance, he knew he would have to remove it somehow before it became infected. Aragorn took in his new surroundings by the flickering torches that had been left on the wall, and hoped with all his heart that Legolas had made it to Rivendell.

Elrohir hurriedly walked up the stairs into his and Elladan's adjoining bedrooms. Pushing the door open, he stifled a laugh when he saw Elladan sitting despondently on his bed, his hair still decorated with pink flowers. Pushing these thoughts aside, Elrohir asked anxiously, "Elladan, have you seen Estel recently? _Ada_ thought he was at the River Bruinen, but he isn't, and nobody has seen him since this morning."

Elladan turned to face his twin instantly. He was still annoyed at his youngest brother, but that didn't change the fact that he loved him, and would never see him hurt.

"No. But he can't have gone far," Elladan said worriedly. "He was extremely excited for Legolas to be arriving today, and he wouldn't want to miss it."

"Illuvatar!" Elrohir exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you! Legolas arrived not ten minutes ago. He and his escort were attacked on the way here, by a group of men, only a twenty minute ride from the gates. One of the escorts was killed."

Elladan, shocked at the unexpected news, said "Is Legolas well? Did he receive any major injuries?"

"Nothing serious, Elladan. He is in the healing wing now, being treated for a few minor cuts."

Elladan stood, pulling a dark cloak over himself to hide his hair. "Will you go down to the healing wing with me? I am going to check on Legolas, and then we are going to found our troublemaking little brother."

Elrohir nodded. He stood behind Elladan, and helped him properly cover his new hair style with the dark cloak. "It sounds like a reliable plan to me, brother."

The twins walked down the stairs toward the healing wing, desperately trying to think of where Aragorn could have gone to find solitude. The troubling thing was, Estel would be found when he wanted to be. And, Elrohir thought, Valar knew when that would be.

TBC

 _Pen-neth – young one_

 _Ada - father_

 **Okay, second chapter done! If you like my story and want me to continue it, please pleeaase review! Also if you happen to know any good elvish translating websites, tell me, it would make writing a lot easier. BTW, Merry Christmas everybody!**


	3. Falling Into Place

A/N

Hi guys I have noticed I am getting lots of views, but no reviews yet? I would absolutely love it if someone took the time to write one *please please please*. But for those of you who are reading my story, I will try to upload a new chapter every three or four days.

Chapter 3

"But I don't understand," Legolas said confusedly. "Why would a group of humans be lingering outside the woods of Rivendell, simply to attack passing elves? Also, Elladan, why in the name of Illuvatar do you have pink flowers in your hair?"

Elrohir smirked. Elladan shot his twin a scathing glare that should have melted the twin into the ground. "That is not important right now, Legolas, but when you see Estel, you can ask him that yourself. As for the men, elves have been attacked by drunken hunters around Imladris before, but it has always been a rare occurrence."

Legolas frowned slightly. "These men were not drunk. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they were skilled fighters. They killed Haerelon, one of the elves I was travelling with."

Elrohir put a comforting hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Legolas gave a sad smile. "Thank you, Elrohir." Glancing around the room, he asked "where is Aragorn? I have not seen him at all yet."

The twins exchanged a look. "We don't know. He's not in his room, and we haven't seen him since this morning. We were going to go look for him after making sure you were well," Elrohir said anxiously.

"Is Lord Elrond looking for him?"

Elladan shook his head. "No, we have not told _ada_ yet, he is extremely busy, and Estel may just be enjoying a moment alone. But we have been feeling uneasy, so we decided to search for him. He was most excited for you to arrive, it is strange he wasn't here to greet you."

"Are you going now? Because I am coming with you."

Elladan quickly pushed the prince back down into the bed. "Absolutely not. Your injuries might not be serious, but there is no need to make them worse. And with the hostile group of men that seem to be travelling through the forests, I am sure everyone would rather you stay here."

"No Elladan," Legolas said heatedly, "I am coming with you. Estel does not know about the men in the forests, he could be in serious danger! There is no way you can keep me here. Otherwise I will just have to leave by myself after you two go."

Elladan groaned in frustration. Elrohir rubbed his aching temples. If Legolas was going to be stubborn, they would have to take the prince with them. He couldn't risk Legolas leaving by himself and getting caught up in even more danger.

"Fine," Elrohir said. "But if you don't make it back, I will not be the one to tell your father."

Satisfied, Legolas pulled a clean tunic over his head. Elladan tossed him his knives that had been sitting in a box beside the prince's bed. Strapping his quiver over his shoulder, Legolas asked "Where do we look for Estel first?"

Elrohir thought for a second. "Maybe first we should go back to the River Bruinen, and see if we can pick anything up from there? I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, he is most likely just avoiding Elladan."

Elladan rolled his eyes. Legolas nodded in agreement, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was a much larger crisis. The three elves walked out of the healing wing, side by side.

Aragorn winced as the sound of the cell door opening met his ears. Unconsciously straightening his posture as a man entered the cave, he pushed any feeling of fear or worry behind his prideful mask. He looked up into the face of two men. The one that had struck him the night before smirked at him.

The other man grinned at Aragorn. "Where does the lord want him, Commander Donngal?"

"Just outside, Fergal. Make haste, the lord is waiting."

Aragorn's mind raced. Lord? This was no ordinary group of humans. Hunting groups had no lord. He wondered vaguely what these men had been offered to make them agree to serve someone.

His body jolted with pain as he was yanked up by his bound wrists. He was stiff and sore from spending the night leaning against a hard rock wall. Angrily, he spat in Fergal's direction. It landed beside his shoe.

Fergal hissed in annoyance, and dug his hand into Estel's wounded shoulder. He tried not to cringe as the man's fingers dug into his tender flesh. His eyes hardened with resolve as he attempted to stare down Fergal, shooting the man a look that was somehow icy cold and burning hot simultaneously.

Surely someone noticed he was missing by now. He did not know if he could get out of this one without a little help. His mischief was always getting him into trouble, but this time he was in over his head. Sending a silent prayer to the Valar, he hoped his brothers and Legolas had the sense not to attack a group of men without reinforcements. That was, if they ever found him…

He shook his head to clear these negative thoughts, and returned his attention to the problem at hand. He was being pushed out of the cave, taking care not to show any weakness, no matter how much his shoulder ached.

He forced his silver eyes shut as harsh light seared them. After being in the dark for so long, the sunlight felt like fire beneath his eyelids. Blinking quickly to clear his fuzzy vision, he focused on his surroundings.

He recognized this place. They were in a small clearing, a mere half hour from Rivendell. It had been here that the twins had first taught him to shoot a bow, and wield a blade. Estel's heart sank when we realised that no one ever came through this way, not unless they wanted to take an extra-long route entering and leaving Imladris.

How do these people know their way around Rivendell? It was almost as if they lived here. But that was impossible; he was certain that he was the only human that could call the Last Homely House _his_ home.

His thoughts were interrupted when they came to an abrupt halt. Narrowing his eyes to see clearly through the bright sunlight, Aragorn saw a figure moving toward them. Commander Donngal stepped forward, inclining his head slightly to the approaching figure. "Lord Morcion."

Aragorn focused intently on the figure. He had long chestnut hair and pointy-tipped ears. A bow and a quiver full of arrows sat strapped over his shoulder, and he had a long elvish blade sheathed at his side. So, he thought to himself, the elf hadn't been a dream.

"So, Lord Elrond's foster son is awake. How did you sleep, ranger?" Morcion drawled.

Estel tried to mask his shock at how the elf knew him. Chewing the inside of his lip, he bit back the scathing reply he had been about to shoot back. It would do no good in this situation. He chose to glare at Morcion instead.

Morcion raised an eyebrow. "Have you nothing to say ranger? Not to worry, we have plenty of time to become better acquainted."

"How in the Valar do you know me and what do you think gives you the right to kidnap people in my father's forests?" Aragorn hissed angrily.

Morcion smirked. "Oh, the Valar. Do you still believe in them? I did too once, a long time ago. But the Valar are not real, boy. If they were real, they would not leave those who suffer, and turn a blind eye to those who call to them in need. I learnt that lesson long ago, and I think it's time you did, too. As for your father, well these forests won't be his for long. They will be mine."

Aragorn tried to contain his anger. "What did Lord Elrond ever do to you?"

Morcion fixed him with an evil glare. "Oh, you have no idea, ranger. But you, you will help me get my revenge. The downfall of your father is all I desire."

Estel kept a stoic expression. "How exactly do you plan to make me help with that?"

Morcion tilted his head for a moment, studying the young ranger with cold eyes. "All in good time, boy, you will be told only of what you need to know. Fergal, Donngal, tie the ranger to that tree over there. We will not be moving anytime soon. And you, ranger, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, unless you would like some more injuries to go with your shoulder wound."

Aragorn fixed Morcion with one last piercing glare before he was dragged off to the edge of the campsite between the two men.

Elrond gave up on paperwork when his headache reached a whole new level. Sighing, he stood up and walked out onto his office balcony. Stepping to the edge, he put his hands on the wooded balustrades and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Peace. Peace was one of the most valued things now; his wife Celebrìan had taught him that.

A soft wind blew, soothing Elrond's headache. He heard soft footsteps behind him, and turned to see Glorfindel standing in the doorway to the balcony. Elrond smiled in greeting. "Hello, _mellon-nin."_

Glorfindel acknowledged him with a nod of his head. "What bothers you, Elrond?"

"Nothing, Glorfindel, I simply seek a moment away from my paperwork," Elrond lied.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What is really troubling you?"

Elrond sighed. "It is just a feeling. Something is not right in Imladris. But what it is, I am not sure. Perhaps it is nothing. Rivendell has not been threatened by anyone in centuries." Elrond tried to reassure himself.

Glorfindel crossed his arms. "My Lord Elrond, you have the gift of foresight. I do not think assumed danger in Rivendell should be taken lightly."

Elrond's jaw twitched. "I suppose you are right. I will go talk to the twins and Estel, to see if they have noticed anything amiss."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement. Elrond put a hand on his shoulder. "I will see you later, my friend. Thank you for your counsel."

"Elrond?" Glorfindel called. Elrond turned to face him. "After that, get some sleep. You are weary; I can see it in your eyes."

Elrond opened his mouth to protest, but then sighed in defeat when he realised Glorfindel was right. He nodded.

The golden-haired balrog slayer smiled. He turned to watch Elrond swiftly walk out of the office, the tips of his dark cloak swishing around the corner of the doorway. He turned to look out over the balcony. In the distance, the sun was setting, washing Imladris in an enchanting gold. He watched elflings run about the forests, and maidens dancing between the trees. He sent a silent prayer to the Valar that peace would stay in Imladris for many more _yenì_ to come.

TBC…

 _Ada – father_

 _Mellon-nin – my friend_

 _Yenì – elvish equivalent to 144 years._

 **Ok, the story is really starting now! I know I have already said this enough, but please review, it would mean so much to me. I need to know if my writing is any good! I promise that I will try and stick to posting a chapter every 4 days at least. And as the story gets more intense, I will definitely write longer chapters. I hope everyone had a good Christmas.*Thank you***


	4. Making Way For Memories

A/N

Hey everyone! Thank you sooo much to Midnight Musings and Queries, and Ellifant for taking the time to leave a review on my story, it means so much to me! I will reply to all registered reviewers, but unfortunately I cannot reply to guest reviews. This is chapter four, and I promise the story will start getting more intense. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4

Aragorn's arms ached from being bound together at an awkward angle. Leaning back against the tree he was tied too, he wiped the sweat and blood out of his eyes on his shoulder. He winced as he nudged the arrow tip that still sat deep inside his skin.

Despite the strict orders that 'Lord' Morcion had given that clearly stated Elrond's foster son should not be harmed unnecessarily, Commander Donngal had managed to beat him almost unconscious. Aragorn wondered how no one noticed, but then came to the conclusion that not a person in this camp cared for his health, as long as he wasn't dead.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly to counter the pain that shot through every part of his body, Aragorn uncomfortably shifted against the tree. Blood poured steadily from his forehead from a deep gash, a result of Donngal's cursed metal club. Valar, how did he get himself into these situations? Usually, he had Legolas by his side, and together, they would always find a way out unscathed. Well, not entirely unscathed. There had been that time when the two of them returned to Mirkwood on horseback, Aragorn unconscious, and a dangerously weary Legolas holding him up…

Snapping himself out of his memories, he fixed his attention on Morcion and Donngal, who were striding across the camp in his direction. Instantly pushing all traces of pain out of his expression, he glared at the approaching figures with a cold, stormy glare.

Morcion ignored his icy stare and gave a smirk. "Good morning, ranger."

Estel remained silent. A strong slap to his cheek whipped his head violently to the side. "Answer when you are spoken too, boy," Commander Donngal hissed.

Aragorn shook his wavy brown hair away from his face. Blood ran from his nose.

Morcion rolled his pale green eyes. "Stop wasting precious time, Commander," he said in annoyance.

Donngal's eyes flashed angrily. "Yes, my lord," he mumbled.

The mousey-brown haired commander bent down next to him, his hand outstretched. Bracing himself for a hit, Estel closed his eyes. Surprised that it never came, he looked down in confusion to see Donngal holding a small object in front of him. Focusing, he realised it was his dagger, a gift to him from the twins. He felt guilt rise up inside him. One of his most treasured possessions, and he hadn't even realised it was gone. His elven name, Estel, was carved on the hilt of the dagger.

"What use does a filthy man like you have for a pure elven blade? You need skill to wield that knife, Donngal, skill you do not have." Aragorn said Donngal's name the way an elf would speak of an orc. Commander Donngal's jaw twitched as he struggled to keep his feelings in check.

"This dagger, ranger, is going to be sent to Rivendell. All we need is a keepsake from Elrond's precious foster son, to show that we have you, and surely he will pay any price to get you back. That is, if he truly loves you as much as he says he does."

Aragorn stared at Donngal and Morcion in horror. They were going to use him to threaten his father! The twins and Legolas would recognize his weapon without a second glance. He couldn't let this happen; he had to escape before word of his capture reached Rivendell…

"How exactly do you plan to deliver the knife without getting caught? My family will be looking for me by now, and I am sure any unrecognizable man or elf carrying my weapon would be the perfect place to start," Estel said defiantly.

Morcion gave him a cruel smile. He clicked his fingers, and a group of men walked up, dragging a small figure between them.

Estel's heart skipped a beat when he saw a little elfling. He recognized the little dark-haired elf as Calanon, but he did not seem to know Estel. His eyes narrowed in anger when he saw the small elflings tunic ripped, blood slowly seeping through cuts on his torso. Calanon's little body was shaking with shock, his eyes wide.

Estel looked at his captors incredulously. "You would kidnap a _child_? You truly have no soul. _Ego, mibo orch._ "

Morcion smirked in amusement at the insult. Donngal, clearly infuriated that he didn't understand, forcibly grasped the ranger's chin. "The elfling is scared, boy. We are sending him back to Rivendell, on the horse we found you with."

Morcion walked up to them. "The horse is clearly elven; it will take any wounded elf directly back to the Last Homely House. And, we are sending him with a gift for your father."

Donngal released his vice-like grip on Aragorn's chin, leaving the ranger to face Morcion and Calanon. Morcion slipped Estel's dagger into Calanon's cloak pocket, a small note attached to it. Giving one last cruel glance to Estel, the evil elf led the shaking elfling away towards the edge of the forest.

Donngal waited until his lord passed out of sight, then looked down at Estel, an unpleasant expression of his face. "It's time to pay for those insults, you insufferable ranger."

Legolas struggled to process what had happened in only the span of a few days. First, after an incredible amount of pleas to his father, he had left for Imladris with an escort. Almost at the end of their path, they had been attacked by a mysterious group of men, who no one seemed to know anything about. Finally, the worst of all, Aragorn had gone missing.

Elladan paced furiously in the gardens outside the Last Homely House, the early morning sun shining weakly above him. The twins had searched everywhere, but found no trace of their youngest brother. Legolas's brow creased with worry as he watched the eldest son of Elrond march back and forward, tracing and retracing his steps. Only one pink flower remained in his raven hair, the rest scattered about the ground at his feet.

Hearing footsteps behind him, the Prince of Mirkwood turned to see Elrohir striding quickly toward them, closely followed by an extremely anxious-looking Elrond.

Elladan rushed up to them. " _Ada_ , it's my fault, he was hiding from me, and something must have happened, or he would have come home-"

"Calm down, _ion-nin_ , nothing was your fault." Elrond interrupted soothingly. "But Estel must be found, and quickly. A messenger returning from Mirkwood was found dead at the edge of the forest, an arrow in his back. And this arrow was not of men or orcs, it was elvish."

Legolas remained quiet. If only he had arrived earlier, maybe Aragorn wouldn't have been wandering off by himself. He felt sick with fear for his best friend. Elves? Why would elves attack the people of Rivendell?

The twins faced Elrond in shock. "Elves?" Elladan asked in astonishment. "Every elf in Rivendell knows Imladris is no threat, they would not dare make an enemy of you without good reason, _ada_."

Elrond's expression remained stoic.

"There is still the chance that Estel is seeking solitude; he may not be in any immediate danger," Elrohir suggested hopefully.

Elladan looked at his twin, exasperated. "Elrohir, he is unaware of the men that attacked Legolas. He needs to be warned! Besides, Aragorn would not stay in the forest overnight, he knows it is not safe, and he knows we will worry."

Legolas stood, his blue eyes flashing in unease. "Lord Elrond, we must send out a patrol."

Elrond nodded. "Certainly. I will go and arrange it now. If everyone is prepared, they will leave before noon."

Lord Elrond began to walk out of the gardens, but stopped when a sudden commotion grew at the gates. Whirling around to face the others, they ran to the disruption at the entrance of the Last Homely house.

They reached the chaotic crowd, but no one payed them any attention, and kept on making a scene. 'What is going on here?" Elrond roared.

A lithe red-haired elf worked his way to the front of the crowd. "My Lord Elrond, an elfling, Calanon has arrived at the gate on horseback. He is close to unconsciousness; he needs your help immediately. He is already being taken to the healing wing."

"What happened to him?" Legolas asked curiously.

"We don't know. He wouldn't speak. But it seems he was attacked by something, he is covered in blood and his tunic is torn," the elf answered uneasily.

Glorfindel rushed down the stairs towards the healing wing, quite inelegantly for an elf. Word had just reached him that someone had been found injured, and was now being treated by Lord Elrond. Hoping against hope that they had found Estel, he began to walk even faster.

He reached the healing wing doors, but was stopped rudely by two elleth healers. "Sorry Lord Glorfindel, but Lord Elrond had ordered that we let no one through these doors without his permission."

The golden-haired balrog slayer glared at them, but to their credit, the healers didn't relent. Abruptly, the doors to the healing wing opened, and Elrohir appeared in the doorway. "Glorfindel, why are you out here? Come in!"

Glorfindel tried not to grin at the indignant expressions on the elf-maiden's faces as he pushed past them and walked through the entrance.

"Who did they find?" Glorfindel asked hopefully.

"Calanon, an elfling that went missing while playing in the woods. He seems to be in shock, he will not speak to any of us."

Glorfindel tried not to let his disappointment show that Estel had not been found. Spotting Elrond, Elladan and Legolas at the far end of the room, he strode over to them.

Elrond was cutting the remains off Calanon's coat, to get to his bruised ribs underneath. The young elfling winced as something heavy fell out of the pockets and landed on his stomach. The small object immediately caught Elladan's eye, and he reached out to pick it up.

His heart leapt into his throat. It was the dagger he and Elrohir had given Estel, when he turned fifteen. "Where did you get this?" He asked Calanon as calmly as he could.

Calanon just stared at him, his eyes wide. Elladan's jaw twitched.

Suddenly, Elrond caught sight of the small note that had floated out of Calanon's pocket. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and read it.

 _Elrond of Rivendell,_

 _We have your foster son. If you do not believe me, take a closer look at the dagger this note was sent with. As I write this, your dear Estel is suffering at the hands of my men, his strong spirit slowly failing as he cowers in the corner of the dark cave he is kept in. A long time ago, you betrayed me Elrond, and I seek vengeance. I desire Rivendell, and all that is in it. If you value the life of Estel, you will meet me immediately in the clearing where we once used to escape our responsibilities together, to enjoy each other's company. Do not bring anyone with you, or I swear I will make your son's death as painful and prolonged as possible._

 _Don't keep me waiting._

 _-Morcion_

Elrond closed his eyes as memories washed through him. The thought of Estel, alone and in pain, because of him? He could not bear it.

" _Ada,_ what is it? What does the note say? Does it regard Estel?" The twins questioned their father worriedly.

Legolas looked at Elrond, and in his eyes he saw guilt, fear and anger. "Lord Elrond, what does it say?" He asked despairingly.

Elrond ignored his sons and Legolas. "I must leave Imladris immediately. I will return in a few days, and with a little luck, Estel by my side."

Legolas looked up incredulously. "My lord, you cannot go out there alone! If you must go, take us with you!"

"No. I am sorry, Prince Legolas, this time you must stay. You cannot come to Estel's aid now. I must do this alone."

His face pale with worry for his youngest son, Elrond turned and paced out of the healing wing, leaving four baffled elves in his wake.

TBC…

 _Ego, mibo orch – Go kiss an orc_

 _Ada – father_

 **Chapter 4 done! Thank you to everyone following my story, and I hope you enjoy it! Regarding how many chapters this story will have, I am not completely sure, but I'm guessing anywhere from 7-10. Please review!**


	5. When All Else Fails

A/N

This is the fifth chapter to my story! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I have sent you a reply via email. In this chapter, we see Elrond's pretty much useless plan, and find out just how stubborn Legolas and the twins can really be.

Chapter 5

Elrond hurriedly stuffed a small bag full of _athelas,_ bandages and healing implements. His mind raced. Morcion? He had thought Morcion was gone for good. The dark-haired elf had been his friend once, a long time ago. But what he had done was unforgivable, unforgettable, and so Elrond had banished him from Imladris.

The Lord of Rivendell had assumed that Morcion went into hiding, spiteful and alone, refusing to return to the normal world. But he had grown stronger, and to Elrond's disbelief, had gathered a group of followers.

Elrond finished packing his bag and turned around, but flinched when he noticed Glorfindel standing beside his horse.

Elrond cleared his throat. "Glorfindel, I am busy. I beg you, go and help the twins and Legolas in the healing wing."

Glorfindel didn't move. "Elrond, I am coming with you."

The dark-haired elf lord raised an eyebrow. "No, _mellon,_ you are not."

"Why?" Glorfindel asked, sounding not too different from a young elfling asking for sweets. "Why will you not let us help you? We love Estel just as much as you do, why should we not be a part of his rescue?"

"Because, Glorfindel," Elrond answered gravely. "There is a risk in every action we take, including this rescue, and I will not endanger the life of my son any more if I can help it."

"Elrond! It is suicide going out there alone! You do not even know who has Estel!"

Elrond turned around to face his friend. "Yes, I do," he said solemnly.

"Who?"

"That is of no importance now, _mellon._ I need you to stay here, and ensure that Imladris does not fall into shambles. And, I need you to stop the twins and Legolas from following me. I know they want to help Aragorn, but it is too dangerous, for them, and for him." Elrond said pleadingly.

Glorfindel gave Elrond a scrutinizing glare. After a few seconds, he sighed, clearly beaten. "Of course, my lord. I expect you to be back in no longer than three days, or for you to at least send word."

Elrond nodded in agreement, hoping he would be able to keep that promise. He jumped up onto his horse. Leaning forward to whisper in its ear, the steed gave a soft whine and took off at a full gallop through the trees.

The golden-haired balrog slayer stood, watching one of his oldest friends ride into the distance. Sighing, he closed his eyes and turned to walk back to the healing wing.

Elladan sat on an empty bed in the healing wing, turning Estel's dagger between his fingers. He was numb with disbelief. His father had left the note from Morcion on the floor, and he had read it, passing it on to Elrohir when he was finished.

He had completely forgotten about Morcion. His father hadn't mentioned him in a long time, but Elladan remembered why the green-eyed elf had been banished, clear as day.

He returned his attention to the present and watched Elrohir and Legolas argue.

Legolas asked confusedly. "Why does this Morcion hate your father? I don't understand!"

"We don't have time to explain that right now Legolas!" Elrohir answered heatedly.

"Then let's not waste this time, Elrohir. We have to follow Lord Elrond! If we do not leave soon, it will be too late and we will never find Estel!"

"Legolas, wait! We have to prepare first. And what of Rivendell! We cannot just leave! Someone must take charge of Imladris."

At that moment, Glorfindel walked into the healing wing. "Your father has assigned that role to me, Elrohir."

Elladan hurriedly shoved the note into his pocket. "Glorfindel! Did _ada_ mention anything else about what he was planning to do?"

The twins and Legolas managed to keep innocent faces. Glorfindel eyed them suspiciously. "No, he did not. But he will return in three days, and he has explicitly ordered that the three of you do not leave Imladris."

Legolas feigned a look of offense. "Lord Glorfindel, we know better than to interfere with Lord Elrond's plans."

The twins nodded vigorously. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I am going to go find Erestor, but I expect all of you to be in the dining hall for supper tonight. And, I suggest lowering your voices. That poor elfling clearly needs rest, and you three certainly are not giving it to him."

The golden-haired elf walked out of the room.

Elrohir looked at Calanon. The elfling was fast asleep, and it did not seem that even an oliphaunt marching through the room would cause him to stir in the slightest.

Legolas sighed. "We need to leave now. If we go down for supper tonight, I'll bet my bow that guards are going to be keeping watch on us until your father gets back."

Elrohir nodded. "Go and prepare, and Elladan and I will meet you down in the stables in twenty minutes. And, whatever you do, don't get caught. The last thing we need is more delays."

Legolas gave one last glance to the sleeping elfling in the bed, and swiftly left the healing wing. The twins watched him go. Elladan turned around to face his brother, still twirling the dagger between his fingers. "Elrohir, we need to find him," Elladan whispered despairingly. "We made a promise to Arathorn, that we would protect his son with our lives. He is the last hope of Middle Earth, the last hope of men, and, no matter what he says, our little brother."

Elrohir studied his twin, worry flashing in his eyes. "Elladan, I promise you, we won't lose another member of our family." The younger twin rose defiantly. "Let's go find Estel."

Aragorn rolled his shoulder, trying desperately to ease the burning pain that the arrow tip left. He spat the blood out of his mouth, but his broken lip and bleeding nose quickly filled it again. He was weary with blood loss, courtesy to Donngal reopening his shoulder wound and his obvious curiosity at how far a knife could go without damaging vital organs. He closed his eyes, blocking out the cave walls that confined him. The dark-haired ranger had almost lost hope of finding an escape plan. He couldn't think straight, not with his blood pounding in his ears.

Trying to blink the grey spots that were beginning to cloud his vision, he vaguely wondered if Elrond had received Morcion's message. He was caught between the selfish want for his father to rescue him, and his wish for his family to stay out of danger. But his biggest worry was for his brothers. He knew that Legolas would have arrived by now, and he knew that the reckless prince would only add to the twins urge to come find him. And if they came alone… needless to say, it wouldn't end well for any of them.

Aragorn had grown up among elves. He had been raised by kind souls and free hearts, the result being that he was a reasonable person. He had never truly hated any being on Middle Earth, with the exception of orcs, trolls, and other servants of Morgoth. But Donngal was a different case. That man was truly soulless. He had no hesitations about spilling blood. Not only that, Aragorn mused, he relished it. He tortured others for only one reason, to make himself feel stronger. And any man who did that was clearly empty inside, save for the dark torrents of hate and insecurity.

Unfortunately, said man was now entering the cave. Estel greeted the heartless man with an icy glare that should have frozen him solid. Donngal glared right back. "Good afternoon, unbearable ranger."

"Not as unbearable as you, _pe-channas._ " Aragorn shot back.

Donngal managed to hide his obvious fury at not being able to understand the prisoner's insults.

"No ranger, haven't you learnt your lesson about your precious elvish insults? Or would you like a reminder? It could be arranged…"

The captain gripped Estel's wounded shoulder, his fingers digging into the already irritated flesh. The ranger bit the inside of his lip, refusing to make the slightest noise and give Donngal any satisfaction.

"Did you only come for some entertainment then?" Aragorn asked angrily.

Just as Aragorn felt that the vice-like grip upon his shoulder was becoming too much, the mousey-brown haired man released it. The captain smirked. "I wish, boy. But in fact, I came to inform you that you have a visitor."

Aragorn's breath caught in his throat. _Please don't let it be my brothers._ "Who?"

Donngal gave him a knowing glance. "Your father."

Aragorn scowled. "You lie," he hissed, infuriated.

"No. No, I do not. Lord Elrond has come to save his human son, a son he only agreed to take in out of pity, a son who will always be a burden. You will be the reason for Rivendell's downfall. Lord Morcion will get all he deserves, and I will rule by his side, rolling in hills of gold."

Gold. Was that all men cared for now? To move love and peace back to a second assurance, and bask in unnecessary riches? Aragorn hated this man with all his heart. Slowly, Donngal's words took effect. Estel closed his eyes in anguish. It was his fault. Valar, how could he be so foolish? The twins and _ada_ must hate him, and Legolas… he would be ashamed to call him his friend. How could he be the downfall of Rivendell? The Last Homely House, a sanctuary which had stood for centuries, and centuries more it was meant to endure. He wondered hopelessly if Elrond would even try strike a bargain with Morcion, if the Lord of Imladris thought he was worth it.

Estel noticed Donngal was still watching him, waiting for a reaction. Well, Aragorn thought defiantly, he wasn't going to give him one. He took a deep breath. Where had these hopeless feelings come from? He was Estel, to give up hope meant to give up on himself. And he couldn't do that, not yet at least…

"Where is Elrond now?"

Donngal gave the ranger on the floor an almost pitiful look. "I would say he is still riding through the trees, following fake trails we set for him, right into the trap that was prepared. We have had a group of scouts following him for quite a while, now."

"WHAT?" Aragorn roared. "You men are a disgrace! I am utterly ashamed to claim that you and I are of the same race!"

Donngal rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't get all high and mighty now, ranger. Remember why we are in this current situation."

Aragorn clenched his jaw, refraining from saying something he might come to regret.

"Learning now, are we ranger? Well, if you aren't going to give me any reason to have some entertainment, I had best be off to be informed of our guest's predicament. I trust you will be comfortable down here while I am gone?" Donngal said mockingly.

Going against his previous self-drawn guidelines, Estel spat at the captain's boots. It missed by a mere inch.

Donngal directed one last scathing glare down at the prisoner, which Aragorn returned, before turning on his heel, exiting the dank cave and pulling the heavy iron-grated door shut behind him.

Aragorn kicked the ground hard in anger, growling with frustration. Elrond was headed right into a trap, set up by Morcion… and from what he had been able to tell from Donngal's information, he was alone. The worst detail was that he didn't even know why Morcion so clearly resented his father.

Estel wondered vaguely if he would ever see his family again. Elladan… the last time he had seen his brother, they had fought. And he hadn't seen Legolas for months. The ranger closed his eyes. This was turning out to be so much worse than he ever thought it could be…

TBC…

 _Athelas – A healing herb that grows throughout Middle Earth, also known as Kingsfoil._

 _Mellon – Friend_

 _Ada – Father_

 _Pe-channas – Lacking intelligence (fool)_

 **I don't really have anything much to say. If you want more scenes with a certain type of character, please leave a review or PM me. All reviews will be replied to in email.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Weary Souls

A/N

Thanks to everyone who left a review on Chapter 5! And thank you to Sidewalk Surfer and Amaranth Carlton for PM'ing me. This chapter fills the request for more of Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas finally finds out what the cause of the rivalry between Elrond and Morcion is.

Chapter 6

Legolas absent-mindedly stroked his horse's mane. His mind was filled with worry, for Aragorn and Elrond, and what state they might find the two in. His thoughts drifted back to the letter that had been sent to Lord Elrond. Aragorn had always been strong-spirited and resilient, even in the worst of times that the two had shared together. To find him any other way… Legolas hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't come to that.

He directed his attention back to Elladan, who was carefully following the track they had found not ten minutes after leaving, terrified of losing it. If they lost the trail, they also lost their hope of finding Estel and Elrond.

"Elrohir," the prince said timidly, "where does the resentment between your father and Morcion come from?"

Elrohir turned in his saddle to face Legolas. Elladan didn't even lift his head, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him. The younger twin sighed. "That goes back a long way, Legolas."

Legolas waited patiently.

Elrohir thought for a moment. " _Yenì_ ago, Morcion and _ada_ were friends. Father once even looked to him for advice. But he changed. He became paranoid of death, so terrified of it. Once, when Rivendell was under attack by an army of orcs and men, Morcion _made a deal with them_. At the last second, right before the war, he snuck out of Imladris and was given safe passage through the enemy ranks where he hid like a coward at the back." Elrohir glared at the ground bitterly. "When the war was over, we were victorious. Elladan and I found Morcion with his two sons hiding behind enemy men at the back, and we brought him back to Rivendell before _ada._ "

Legolas blanched. An elf making deals with orcs? It was unheard of. Just like almost every other elf, Legolas hated orcs with a burning passion. Orcs were the shadowed, evil remains of what once was an elf, and they only served as a reminder to the prince what he could become one day, however unlikely that could be.

Elladan looked up from the trail they were following. Elrohir immediately took over. The eldest twin continued the story.

"Father couldn't believe that one of his friends betrayed him like that. He banished Morcion, but his two sons refused to leave their father. Morcion argued with _ada_ , saying that he only wanted to protect his sons against what seemed like a hopeless battle, but _ada_ had no choice." Elladan went on heatedly. "How could he forgive an elf that would rather hide behind enemy lines to save his own life, instead of fight beside his friends?"

"Morcion was exiled, his two sons with him, and the three of them immediately fled. Rumours reached us that they travelled east, and remained in the lands between Rhûn and Harad, but no one saw them for centuries. And now, he is back, and he obviously intends to wreak havoc on Imladris in some twisted way."

Elladan finished recounting the story with a tortured sigh. He had clearly never forgiven Morcion in the first place, and now that he had captured Estel, his emotions consisted of barely controlled rage.. Legolas let out a shaky breath. He had never met Morcion, but what he did already know about him didn't sound good.

Elrohir lifted his head from the ground. "The trails are getting harder to track. I'm going to ride a little further ahead to keep sight of them," he said, clearly troubled.

Legolas and Elladan nodded.

The fair-haired prince closed his eyes, trying to setting his raging mind. This way, he was surprised when Elladan spoke, and taken aback at the deep, shaky undertone in his voice. "We have to find him Legolas. Estel. We _have_ to. But what if we don't? Elrohir and I can't handle losing another family member, not like this."

Legolas tilted his head sympathetically. He wanted to comfort Elladan, but he had his own doubts too.

The dark-haired twin's eyes lowered in anguish. "When we lost our mother, to those _filthy_ orcs… it was unbearable." Elladan closed his eyes tightly, trying to keep embarrassing tears from spilling. "It isn't just losing the person you love, it is learning to live without them. Learning how to fill the empty place in your heart that's left behind when they go. But sometimes it feels as if it is all in vain. It almost killed us last time." Elladan glanced desperately at his twin in front of him, his eyes red. "We are going to save our little brother, or die trying."

Legolas wished he could share his friend's confidence. His own worry for Estel was becoming excruciating. But he knew that whatever happened, he would do whatever he could to protect his human friend…

Leaning over, he put his hand on Elladan's shoulder. "Do not worry my friend, I understand you. I too know what it is like to lose people I love," he said comfortingly.

Blinking furiously, the older twin gave him a grateful smile.

Suddenly Elrohir shouted from up ahead. "Elladan, Legolas, come quickly!"

Legolas and the elder twin spurred their horses, bursting into a familiar clearing to join Elrohir. Legolas immediately recognized the place. "This is where I was attacked on my way to Imladris," he said softly.

The trio scanned their surroundings. It was a devastating sight. Slowly decaying bodies were strewn across the ground, staining the soil and leaves a dark, bloody brown. Legolas lowered his eyes when he saw Haeleron's mutilated body lying on the forest floor, his face pale and his lifeless staring eyes open. To leave him here, amongst the dishonourable dead who killed him didn't seem right, but as of the moment they didn't have a choice.

The three friends stood in silence, allowing a brief moment of mourning before they reapplied their stoic facade. Suddenly, they heard a loud crash and the sound of blades being drawn up ahead. Elladan breathed. _Ada._ Exchanging one quick, desperate look, the elves sprinted back to their horses.

Aragorn breathed heavily. Everywhere he looked, there was crushing darkness. It was swallowing him up, ridding him of all clear thoughts and feelings. He was drowning in misery. Just like elves, Estel didn't bode well with darkness. It weakened him somehow, in a way he could never begin to hope to explain.

Shifting uncomfortably in his bonds, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Elrond. He hoped that his father had outsmarted Morcion and Donngal, but in his heart he knew it wasn't true. A shiver ran down his spine. If Morcion got what he wanted, what would become of them? He seriously doubted they would be set free out of the goodness in Morcion's heart.

He closed his eyes tightly. He wished that Legolas was here. Of course, he was relieved beyond words that his fair-haired friend hadn't been caught up in this madness, but when they were together, it gave him courage. When they were by each other's sides, every daunting task seemed easier, and all the pain seemed more bearable. But Legolas wasn't here, and Estel was on his own. Feeling incredibly small, he pulled his knees up to his chest, careful not to aggravate his burning injuries that were weakening him more by the day.

The door to his cave cell abruptly swung open, screeching on its rusty hinges. He snapped his eyes open. He was greeted with Fergal, the man's stringy blond hair sitting dishevelled around his filthy face.

"Valar, get me out of this nightmare," Aragorn hissed quietly to himself.

Fergal didn't say a word. Bending down, he untied Aragorn's chained hands from the wall behind him and yanked the weary man up. The ranger groaned loudly in protest, but Fergal ignored him. "Get your miserable hands off me, and tell that _dhaeraow_ Morcion who you call a lord to leave my family alone!" Estel spat bitterly. Fergal clenched his jaw, but continued to disregard him.

He began to push Estel out of the door. The ranger, disorientated and wounded, couldn't resist, and allowed himself to be forced outside. He only hoped that he wouldn't find his father, brothers or Legolas, trapped and suffering, stuck alongside him in this nightmarish situation.

When the sunlight hit his face, he immediately closed his eyes. After being in the dark for so long, the sun was unbearably bright. Eyes still closed, he breathed in deeply. He didn't know how long he would have the privilege to revel in this daylight, so he took advantage of it. Slowly, his vision returned, and not wanting to ruin his moment of peace, he reluctantly opened his eyes.

Estel looked around fearfully for any sign that his family or Legolas was here. He found none. Chewing the inside of his lip, he wondered if that was a good or a bad thing.

Pushing against Fergal, he turned around to face the wretched man. "Why did you bring me out here?" He demanded.

"Don't you want to greet your father, ranger?" Fergal asked nastily.

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat. "Where is he? What did you do to him you scum?" Aragorn nearly shouted in fury.

The dirty-blonde haired man shoved Aragorn onto the ground against a tree. The ranger blew his own brown hair out of his face, giving Fergal a look filled with pure detest.

Fergal bent down, putting his vile face right in front of Aragorn's. "You will find out, boy, in due time. Roughly five minutes ago, he walked directly into our trap, completely alone. I am sure the men have overpowered him by now."

Fergal sneered at Estel, ensured his wrists were tied properly behind the tree, and then stalked off in the direction of the small pitched tents the other men had been staying in over the past few days.

Aragorn watched him go with hatred in his heart. Illuvatar, he thought, in a way, these men were no different than orcs! Even Fergal had the same level of hygiene as an orc. The dark-haired ranger tried to calm his rapidly beating chest as he thought over Fergal's words. _Completely alone._ Lord Elrond had walked right into a trap, completely alone. Aragorn knew he must have received the message Calanon had carried, and tried to rescue him without endangering anyone else in the process. 'But _ada_ must have underestimated them,' he thought despondently.

Calanon! Valar, he had forgotten about the poor little elfling! Aragorn felt ashamed. He had been too caught up in his own worries, not even giving the young elfling a second thought. He had been wounded, he remembered, but it hadn't been severe.

Aragorn struggled not to think of his father, wounded or captured, all for his sake. But if Elrond had left alone, it meant he had forbidden Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas from following. And if he had forbidden them, that meant that they wouldn't be far behind…

Estel closed his eyes in desolation. What he wouldn't give to be free of this chaos…

Glorfindel paced up and down the hallway between Elrond's office and the twins' empty rooms. Legolas's room had also been empty.

When the three of them didn't show up in the dining hall the previous night, he had known immediately that they wouldn't be in the Last Homely House. But that didn't stop him from making sure. He had searched the kitchens, the Hall of Fire, the gardens, the Bruinen and the healing wing. Not a trace of them was to be found. The only evidence he had that proved the trio had left, were three missing elven horses, and a considerable amount of athelas that appeared to have gone missing from the healing wing storage room.

Coming to the end of the hallway, he turned around, preparing to walk right down to the other end. He was not expecting to see an elf standing in the way. He studied the newcomer's face. "Tatharon, is it?" Glorfindel asked unsure.

The young elf smiled slightly, his surprise at being recognized by the famous balrog-slayer evident in his green eyes. "Yes, my Lord Glorfindel."

Glorfindel looked at the Mirkwood elf. "Is something troubling you, _pen-neth_?"

"No. Well, I suppose it is. It's just; I am undecided whether I should return to Mirkwood. Usually, escorts return a few days after delivering their charge. But with all the mess that is going on here, I am advised to stay and help, especially now that the prince seems to be caught up in it as well."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Prince Legolas does have a way of walking right into trouble."

Tatharon nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I would stay until the crises here are resolved. But, my good friend Haerelon was killed on our way here. Mirkwood is still unaware of his death. I know his family well, and I feel that it is my duty to inform them of what happened, before they find out some other way. They deserve to know what a noble death Haerelon died."

Glorfindel looked at Tatharon for a moment. "I agree with you, _pen-neth._ Do not worry about Imladris; all will be well within a few days. Go home."

Tatharon looked at the balrog-slayer. "You are sure?" He asked apprehensively.

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes. But when you do, I advise you leave early in the morning. It is safer. And take the usual route out of Rivendell, not the long one that messengers usually take. It will steer you clear of the attacking men. Elrond informed me that they have occupied the road west of the Bruinen."

Tatharon nodded thankfully. "Thank you my lord. I will prepare to leave at first light tomorrow."

Glorfindel smiled in agreement. He watched as Tatharon walked down to the end of the corridor, his pale blonde hair swishing around the corner of the wall.

He sighed. Now Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were missing, as well as Estel. It took all of Glorfindel's will not to immediately jump on a horse and ride after them, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't leave Imladris. Whatever was going on in the forests, the best he could do was hope against hope that Elrond could manage it.

The golden-haired being suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion pass through him. The constant feelings of stress and worry had finally taken their toll. Supressing an inelegant yawn, Glorfindel strode down the hallway, needing to rest, despite the sun that still resided in the sky.

TBC…

 _Yenì – Elvish equivalent to 144 years_

 _Ada – Father_

 _Dhaeraow – Traitor_

 _Pen-neth – Young one_

 **Another chapter completed, finally. In the next chapter, everything will start to fall together, I promise! Hope you liked it.**


	7. Hidden Chaos

A/N

Chapter 7! I thought I would be starting to wrap this story up by now, but I'm not even close to finished! Oh well… Thank you to everyone who reviewed or PM'ed, especially Sidewalk Surfer :)

Chapter 7

Lord Elrond brought down his sword in a crushing blow, smashing the flat of the blade on the head of an enemy. The unconscious warrior fell, joining the ever-growing pile of men on the ground. Elrond felt a brief spark of satisfaction, which turned into hopelessness when he looked around. There were too many of them. He was already beginning to tire; it was only a matter of time…

Had Morcion fooled him? He had followed the trails which, to his memory, led to the clearing the outlawed elf had described. But his beloved foster son was not there, and neither was Morcion. He struggled to contain his rage. If Estel was in anything but perfect condition when he found him, Morcion and every single one of his foolish men were going to rue the day they were born.

Suddenly, his horse reared in warning behind him.

Distracted, he barely dodged a swinging sword that would have sliced clean through his right arm had he not ducked. He clenched his jaw defiantly. He was hopelessly outnumbered, and he knew it. But he wasn't going down this easily.

Sidestepping another blade, he thought furiously. He had an advantage. He had overheard the men's captain telling them to take him alive, which meant they had to control their attacks and overpower him without causing severe harm.

He thrust his sword into an enemy's chest. The warrior fell almost immediately, without a sound. Elrond felt a wave of guilt ripple through him. These were men, just like Estel. The firstborn always had reservations about killing humans. The _edain_ were considered inferior to them, with less resilience, less skill, and less grace. Slaying them felt like taking advantage of their weaknesses.

Elrond steeled himself. These men took Estel, his foster son, the last hope of men. They deserved every strike they received.

He continued to skilfully swing his sword, eradicating several more of Morcion's men. He was wearing down slowly though, and he took a little too long turning around to block an attack. The flat of a heavy iron blade collided with his head, throwing him off balance and causing him to collapse, nauseated on the forest floor.

He dropped his own blood-covered blade onto the leaf-strewn ground. It lay there despondently until the fuzzy figure of a man retrieved it, sheathing it in his own scabbard.

He dazedly brought up a hand to press against his aching head, surprised when he pulled it away and saw blood staining his fingertips. He didn't have long to ponder why that was, because two men immediately came up to him pulled his arms tightly behind his back, binding them together with a length of cord.

A slightly blurry face clouded Elrond's vision, but he couldn't see it clearly. Annoyed, he scrunched his brow in concentration, and managed to focus on the man's features a little more clearly. His captor had chin length mousey-brown hair and watery blue eyes. Something about this man… it radiated evil. How he knew that, Lord Elrond had no idea, but this man was pure malice. He dwelled on that for a moment, before another figure approached them.

"Commander Donngal, we must get him on a horse, _now._ The scouts have just reported that there is a small party of elves riding this way, and they are traveling fast. This elf alone caused us too many casualties, we cannot manage three."

The man in front of Lord Elrond turned his head. "It should not cost us a dozen men to overpower one elf. Lord Morcion will be most displeased," he said severely. "How far away are the other elves?"

The man in front of Donngal straightened his shoulders. "Mere minutes, sir."

The Commander flinched. "We must get out of here! If we lose this elf we lose everything, including our alliance with Lord Morcion. Is that what you desire, Lucien?" He said angrily.

Lucien barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "No, sir, never."

With an annoyed expression on his face, Lucien and two other men hauled the near-unconscious Elrond up onto a horse, making sure he was securely placed in the saddle. Mounting his own horse, Lucien, hastily attached a rope connecting his horse and Elrond's horse together, as the elf clearly couldn't control his horse, not in his current state at least.

The men were all well-trained, and in a matter of seconds the entire group had done their best to cover the tracks and began riding carefully but rapidly out of the clearing. Of course, if someone were looking for clues, it wouldn't be too hard to spot the dead bodies lying under the trees, covered in branches and doomed to dwell above the Earth until they rotted away…

"Hurry!" Elladan said urgently. Legolas pressed his horse faster, whispering encouraging Sindarin in its ear.

They rode as fast as they could, but elves could hear things from miles away, and the source of the noises were at least a few minutes further.

Legolas leaned forward, resting his head on his horse's neck. Glancing sideways, he saw Elrohir's pale face, nearly missing the panic in the younger twin's eyes. Reaching out carefully, he put a comforting hand on the younger twin's shoulder. Elrohir brushed it off with a reassuring smile. Elladan was a different story. The eldest twin had a calm, steely look of defiance and barely controlled fury set upon his face, making Legolas glad he was on their side.

The Prince of Mirkwood was barely controlling the feeling of dread that was constantly rising inside him. What would they find? The sound of battle up ahead had gone quiet, although the three elves had enough skill to know where they were headed. But the sudden silence had made them all feel uneasy.

Legolas, caught up in his own thoughts, nearly collided with Elladan's horse when the son of Elrond came to an abrupt stop. Lucky he didn't, he thought thankfully. Regardless of what situation they were in now, the twins would tease him to no end when this was all over. It was just their way of recovering from turmoil, mocking someone else. Shaking these distracting thoughts away, Legolas returned his attention to what was happening. The twins had slid off their elven horses and were crouching on the ground, clearly looking for clues or trails.

Legolas hastily slid off his own steed. Kneeling down next to the sons of Elrond, he desperately looked for a sign that Aragorn or Lord Elrond had been here. Suddenly, a putrid smell hit him. Blood. The twins stiffened next to him, and the golden-haired being knew they had smelt it too.

A feeling of dread washed through him. He scanned his surroundings a little more carefully. Sparkling in the sun, something caught his eye at the edge of the clearing, and he rushed forward immediately.

Legolas pushed his hand through the branches and leaves to wrap his fingers around the shiny material. It was a sheath. He pulled at it firmly, but it wouldn't budge. Pushing his hand further into the brambles to get a better hold, he recoiled in shock when his fingers brushed against something soft and warm.

He withdrew his fingers, dismayed to find them covered in sticky blood. He exchanged a look with a worried looking Elrohir. Together, they pulled the pile of brambles off the covered figure on the ground.

Elladan's face turned white. The figure on the ground was a man with wavy brown hair, lying face down on the leaf-strewn floor. Collapsing to his knees in alarm, he helped a panic-stricken Legolas gently turn the body over.

With a dull thud, the man was pushed over onto his back. Legolas breathed in relief. The man was not Aragorn. The prince turned to Elladan and Elrohir, seeing his own immense relief mirrored on their faces. He turned back to the body on the ground, looking for any sign of an emblem that could indicate where this man came from. Nothing. He turned back to Elladan and Elrohir, only to find the twins on the other side of the clearing, pulling more branches off the ground.

"Elladan, Elrohir, what are you doing?"

Elrohir shot Legolas an apprehensive look. "That is not the only body in this glade, _mellon-nin."_

Legolas's heart sank. He rushed over, helping the twins pull a particularly thorny bramble off yet another body. The branch pulled free, uncovering a man's body lying on the grass. Immediately, the three elves turned away. Nausea swirled in Legolas's stomach. The man's head looked as if it had… collapsed, for lack of a better word. His forehead had caved in, and there was an indescribable amount of blood pouring out of the wound. Beetles crawled over the dead man's mutilated corpse.

Elrohir staggered backwards, making a retching sound. Elladan reached out, putting an arm around his twin's shoulders, his expression just as horrified as Elrohir's and Legolas's.

"What did this?" Legolas whispered in revulsion.

Elladan shook his head. "I am a healer, and I have tended to many wounds, but I have never seen anything like this."

"These bodies are still warm. They were killed very recently." Said Legolas gravely. "That means whoever survived this battle wanted to leave, and fast. They even made an effort to hide the bodies!"

Elladan nodded with unease.

The youngest twin stepped closer to the body on the ground, examining the disfigured wound. "It looks as if it has been… kicked in?"

Legolas's brow creased in confusion.

Suddenly a crashing sound met the elves ears. Someone or something was moving towards them very quickly. The twins raised their blades. Legolas nocked an arrow onto his bow. His mind raced. The creature was moving much to fast towards them, it was too late to hide.

The elves raised their weapons, ready to defend themselves against whatever was racing toward them through the trees. A large white and red shape came hurtling through the trees at them. Elladan instinctively stepped in front of his twin, raising his sword to strike.

"Stop _muindor_! It is just a horse!" Elrohir yelled, walking out from behind Elladan, slightly annoyed at his brother's overprotectiveness.

That didn't mean much to Legolas. He could have sworn half the horses in Mirkwood hated him with a burning passion. Nonetheless, Elladan lowered his blade, but didn't sheath it.

Legolas looked closely at the horse that had come to an abrupt halt upon seeing the three elves. Beneath the blood, the mare clearly had a pristine white coat and a long, elegant mane that looked as if it had been recently brushed. This particular horse looked very familiar…

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the twins. He quickly looked over at them.

Elrohir walked to the horse, greeting it by ruffling its mane and stroking its nose. Legolas started in surprise. "You know this horse? How? We are miles away from Imladris!"

Elladan turned worried eyes on the prince. "This is Rochiril. The mare that our father rode out of Rivendell on."

The fair-haired prince's heart sank. Elrond must have encountered something that overwhelmed him, or he wouldn't have just left his horse. It was a point of pride with elves that their mounts were treated with the utmost respect.

Elrohir returned his attention to Elladan and Legolas. "I am going to scout the area, and make sure that Rochiril really came here alone."

They nodded. "Be careful, _muindor_." Elladan inquired quietly. Legolas gave the younger twin an encouraging smile.

Legolas walked over to Rochiril, taking the mare from Elrohir as the son of Elrond strode stealthily into the trees. Placing a soothing hand on the skittish horse's mane, he noticed the dried blood clinging to its coat. He turned to face Elladan. "Come and help me over here, I think she might be wounded."

Elladan ventured over. He removed the leather satchel that was still strapped to the mare. Together, they used the nearby stream to wash her. They thoroughly checked the mare, but they found no injuries, major or minor, only a whole lot of dried blood.

"If she isn't injured, then all this blood must be from whoever attacked _ada."_ Elladan said despondently.

Legolas crouched down next the horse, examining her blood-stained back left hoof. "That may be, but I think we found the cause of that man's fatal wound." He said decisively.

The elves looked in the direction of the corpse on the floor, and back to Rochiril. Elladan bit his lip. "These men must have been part of an enemy group that attacked _ada._ And he clearly didn't fare well in the battle." He said worriedly, gesturing to the blood-covered horse in distress.

The prince stood, placing a comforting hand on his distraught friend's shoulder. "Do not worry, Elladan, we will find Lord Elrond, and Estel. And when we do, those men are going to regret ever meddling with the House of Elrond. They will get what they deserve, each and every one of them."

Elladan looked back gratefully, a glimmer of hope shining in his silver eyes. The two friends stepped towards the horse simultaneously, and began to wash the congealed blood off Rochiril's coat.

Elrohir walked silently through the forest glade, scanning his surroundings for any signs that someone had followed Rochiril to them. So far, he had found nothing. But that didn't put a stop to his restlessness.

Making sure the area was safe wasn't the only reason he had offered to scout the forest. He had desperately wanted some time alone to clear his head. On the outside, he had set up a tough exterior, but inside, he felt as if he were crumbling. He remembered his mother's departure to the Grey Havens. It had been one of the hardest times of his life. What if Elrond decided to join her? Elrohir knew he and Elladan wouldn't be able to live with it, that they would follow their father as well.

But that left Aragorn. What if Estel died? That would be so much worse than Elrohir could imagine. He was Aragorn's brother by everything but blood, everything that mattered, and he loved him deeply. If his little brother died, he would never see him again. Unlike with Celebrìan, Elrohir and Elladan could not visit Aragorn in the afterlife. As long as Estel was alive, the twins could never leave. He knew Estel would lose all hope if his family left for the only place where he could not follow, where he could never follow.

His heart ached with indecisiveness, struggling to make sense of this muddle of chaos. But he wasn't ready to leave Middle Earth. The lands here still provided him with peace, and happiness, and wonder. He had yet to tire of its beauty.

As he continued to pace, he heard the quiet sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, and the tell-tale swish of an arrow being released. He whirled around instantly, but he was too slow. Before he had fully turned, a white-hot burning of pain shot up his torso. His mouth opened in a pained gasp, as he had no air left to scream, something he was quite thankful for. He tried to look down at the source of the pain, but rapidly growing large grey spots obscured his vision. Futilely attempting to move out of the way, Elrohir braced himself mentally for another hit. It never came. His chest throbbed intensely, the pain steadily increasing instead of subsiding.

Trying and failing to find his attacker, or even see if they were still there, he stumbled. He stopped resisting the fuzzy grey cloud that was threatening to take over him, and sank to the ground, unconscious.

TBC…

 _Edain – Men (humans)_

 _Mellon-nin – My friend_

 _Muindor – Brother_

 _Ada – Father_

 **Ok, finally! That one took me a while, sorry for the late update :) Hope everyone likes it, if you do, please review or PM!**


	8. White Lies

A/N

Ok, Chapter 8! Yes, Aragorn is back in this chapter, (a little bit) Elrond fully figures out what is going on here, and Elrohir has a mysterious injury. I honestly have no idea how many chapters this story is going to have, but I am pretty sure it is over halfway! Hope you enjoy it…

Chapter 8

Elrond slowly worked his bound wrists, hoping to loosen the tight cords that were cutting off his circulation. He had recovered quite a bit from his head injury, but he carefully kept that fact hidden from the men around him. He wasn't about to give them any more power over him than they already did.

Only one fact kept him from trying to escape, and that was the assumption that he was being taken to Estel. It had been several days since his foster son had gone missing, and Elrond was severely worried about what state he might find him in, but all the same, desperate to see him. He wasn't going to take any chances, and he would be damned if he ruined the one chance he had of finding his son.

Even without anyone holding the reins, the horse Elrond was sitting on trotted dutifully forward, keeping pace with the other steeds. Elrond experimentally nudged the horse with his boots, seeing if he had any control over the horse whatsoever. Nothing. The horse just snorted at him and continued following the man up ahead.

The man that had captured him earlier, Commander Donngal, rode past him. The Lord of Imladris hastily tried to look nonchalant, with an dazed expression on his face and vacant, staring eyes, keeping his quick recovery hidden from him.

Keeping his appearance indifferent, he offhandedly tried to eavesdrop on the heated exchange between the men in front of him.

"I assume you have removed all trace of our little battle here, Captain Lucien. If those three elves from earlier catch up with us, or cause any trouble, I can assure you that Morcion will be the first to know. If we lose this elf, I will see to it personally that your family is dead before the end of the season. Am I clear, _Captain_?" Donngal drawled.

Captain Lucien clenched his jaw in silent fury. "Yes, Commander," he said bitterly, averting his eyes and keeping his true feelings concealed.

Lucien closed his eyes in anguish. His family, his wife and son, were still in Rhûn. As far as he knew, Commander Donngal had only accepted Lord Morcion's request for help for some sort of payment in return. And he, Lucien, had only travelled to Rivendell out of duty for his role of Captain. He had only known the dark-haired elf, Morcion, for a month, but he disliked him immensely.

Rhûn was a harsh land. The strong and fearless were respected, and unfortunately so were the heartless. People like Donngal, like Morcion, who relished the pain of others, were accepted by the king. Those who were weak were diminished, and those who failed the King were executed without a second chance. Lucien endured his homeland, and what tasks his title brought him, but only for the sake of his family. For the people who were worth something in that unforgiving land, who meant something.

Feeling eyes on the back of his head, Lucien swivelled in his saddle. The elf they had captured, Lord Elrond, was looking right at him, a dazed expression on his bruised face. But the Captain saw through this façade. The elf's grey eyes were sharp and intent, and their intelligent focus was directed straight at him and Commander Donngal.

Lucien stared back at Elrond, and harsh blue eyes met a smouldering grey. The Captain wondered if the elf's piercing gaze had a deeper meaning, or a motive behind it. Tales and rumours of elves circled Rhûn, but those creatures were described as demons in disguise and reckless souls. He shook those thoughts away. They were not truthful. The elf only glared at him to make him uncomfortable, and nothing else.

Despite this, the Captain felt a slight pang of sympathy for the elf. Elrond was only here because they had captured the boy, and the fact that the young man was not his real son did not seem to matter. Lucien could relate to that. He wondered if it would be worth it to help Elrond.

Pushing these feelings aside, he shook his head. He was here for one reason and one reason only; for _his_ family. He would only have to tolerate Commander Donngal and the King for a little while longer, and then he was going to take his family and flee. To where, he did not know, but he doubted that even Mordor would be worse than Rhûn.

Catching Elrond's intense gaze once more, the Captain turned away and spurred his horse, edging away from the men for some time to consider his situation.

"Elrohir!" Elladan called desperately. He couldn't focus. Panic whirled through his mind, pushing all reasonable feelings away. Only one thought remained. Valar, it was happening, _again_ , someone was taking his family away from him. And that thought left him with his hands shaking in terror.

He couldn't lose Elrohir, his twin was his other half! He couldn't live without his brother, and he never could. Elladan breathed in deeply, attempting futilely to calm himself. In a way, it was comforting to know that he would never have to live in this world without Elrohir for long, that if his younger twin died, he would almost immediately follow him to the Halls of Mandos.

It had been nearly an hour since Elrohir had left to scout the clearing, and Elladan and Legolas were going out of their minds with worry.

"Elrohir!" Legolas shouted, mirroring the older twin's actions. A rustle from the shrubbery around them caused them both to flinch, and reach for their weapons.

"Maybe…" Legolas paused uncertainly, "maybe it is not a good idea to call for Elrohir. If someone harmed him, it would be best not to attract their attention."

Elladan wasn't listening. His heart skipped a beat. He could sense that his twin was here, but he couldn't explain it. It was like a dull thumping inside him, as if his twin's heart were beating alongside his own, letting him know Elrohir was alive, and that he was nearby.

The older twin broke into a run.

"Elladan! Where are you going?" Legolas called alarmed by his sudden burst of speed.

Elladan didn't offer an explanation. Crashing through the undergrowth, he ran faster and faster, only one thought on his mind. _Elrohir…_

He caught sight of his twin, and his throat tightened in dread. Elrohir was lying face down on the leaves, unmoving. Coming to an abrupt halt, he crumpled to his knees. He heard a soft crunching sound as Legolas caught up to him, and the young prince knelt beside him.

The two friends looked at each other in despair, and without exchanging a single word, they both reached out and rolled Elrohir gently onto his back. The younger twin let out a pained moan, but he remained unconscious.

"He's alive" Legolas whispered in relief. Tears burned the corners of Elladan's eyes. His twin was alive, but he wouldn't be for long if they didn't tend to him now. A thick black arrow protruded from his brother's stomach, and blood stained the leaves around them.

Elladan cleared his head. Turning to Legolas, he said shakily but firmly, "We need boiling water, and _athelas_."

Legolas tore his eyes from the injured Elrohir. Nodding resolutely, he rose to his knees and rushed back to Rochiril to retrieve the healing herbs from Elrond's saddlebags.

Elladan hurriedly gathered a pile of dry wood, and started a small fire, feeding the flames dead leaves to heat it up.

By the time Legolas had returned, Elrohir was lying on Elladan's coat, and the older twin was tending to a roaring flame. Kneeling down, Legolas placed a large bowl of water from the lake over the fire and waited for it to boil.

Elladan and Legolas sat by the fire for what seemed like an eternity, their glances flickering between Elrohir and watching the hungry flames lick at the edges of the stone bowl. Finally, the bowl's contents began to boil, and Legolas carefully shredded dried _athelas_ leaves into the water. Bringing it over to Elladan and Elrohir, he watched as the elder twin prepared to pull out the arrow.

Elladan's hands shook in fear. He was a healer, and had repeated this procedure countless times. But on his own brother, it felt too real. Legolas's eyes softened in sympathy. "You can do this, _mellon-nin_ , I know you can."

Elladan gave a small smile. Breathing deeply, he slid the arrow from Elrohir's torso. The point came out smoothly, without tearing any more skin. As soon as the arrow slipped free, blood began pouring from the open wound. Tensing his jaw worriedly, Elladan began ripping his coat into long shreds, soaking them in the _athelas_ water and pressing them against the wound in his brother's side. The elder twin leant forward, whispering encouraging words to his twin in _Sindarin_.

Crouching next to Elladan, Legolas picked up the arrow that had been embedded in Elrohir's side. Scrunching his eyebrows in concentration, the elder twin pressed more soaked cloths against his brother's torso, trying to staunch the bleeding. It shouldn't have been bleeding this much. Why wasn't it stopping?

"Elladan?"

Elladan didn't turn around. "Legolas, I need to focus now-"

" _Elladan._ " Legolas said more forcibly. "Is this poison?"

The son of Elrond's heart skipped a beat. He turned immediately, and saw Legolas kneeling behind him, holding the arrow that had been embedded in Elrohir's side. The fair-haired elf was gesturing to a thick black substance that was coating the tip.

" _What_?"

Aragorn twisted furiously in his bonds. He could feel his strength fading. The wound in his shoulder was infected, and the sickness was increasing gradually throughout his body. He knew if he was not treated soon, he would become fatally ill.

Squaring his shoulders, he tried to ignore the slow burning feeling that was spreading steadily outward from his shoulder. Where was Elrond? The man that had brought him out of the cave, Fergal, had mentioned that Elrond was about to walk right into a trap. Maybe they hadn't been able to catch him, he thought anxiously. But he didn't want to get his hopes up. That would only cause it to be all the more painful if it was not true.

Suddenly, he heard the low drum of hoof beats. Craning his neck around the tree he was sitting against, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. A group of horses was crashing through the trees towards him, but they were slightly blurry.

Estel tried to clear his eyes. " _Ada_?" He whispered to himself in dismay.

Something was happening. Waves of nausea and dizziness were surging through him. Leaning back against the tree, he squeezed his silver eyes shut and waited for the pain to pass. His shoulder felt as if it were on fire.

Instead of decreasing, the pain only amplified. Aragorn lifted his neck off of his chest. When had his head dropped? He couldn't control it anymore, it was too much…

He lifted his gaze desperately, and last thing he remembered seeing was Donngal and his men staring down at him. His father was calling to him, but it was so far away…

Then everything went black.

Elrond could have screamed in frustration. "He is my son! If you do not let me tend to him, he will die! And I swear to you that if he does die, I will never even consider bartering with the likes of you." The Lord of Imladris spat bitterly.

Morcion laughed. "Don't worry _My Lord._ I can assure you that while Donngal likes to use his club, he knows better than to harm the boy too seriously."

" _Too seriously_?" Elrond writhed against the tree he was tied to, directly opposite his son, no more than five footsteps away from him. "He is dying, Morcion, and if we do not do something soon, he will never wake up."

Lord Morcion raised a brow. "I suppose we should come to terms on some form of agreement then, Elrond."

Elrond tensed his jaw. "I will not help you, not until you let me help my son."

Morcion tilted his head. "Then it appears we are at a standstill, Elrond. Alert me when you have a change of heart."

Elrond shot Morcion an icy glare, not moving his gaze until the outlawed elf had strode off.

The elf-lord shook his head. The hit he had taken from the flat of a sword had dazed him immensely, but he had forgotten in it his worry for Estel. He leant forward warily, toward his unconscious son.

"Estel," he whispered, shooting cautious glances at the men patrolling around the clearing. "Estel."

The young ranger twisted in his sleep, muttering incoherent rambling. Elrond sighed. Aragorn looked terrible. His shirt was bloody and torn, and the area around his left shoulder was covered in blood, both dried and fresh. His temple was mottled with bruises, and his eyelids were almost swollen shut. His wrists were turning purple from the lack of blood circulation, and the ropes had chafed his wrists, leaving them torn and raw.

Elrond winced in sympathy. He still couldn't believe that Morcion had done this. He had outlawed Morcion and his sons _yenì_ ago, several hundred years before Aragorn had even been born. The young ranger had no part in this. Elrond almost smiled as he recalled how Aragorn would react to being called young. But the truth was, he _was_ too young. Too young to experience something like this. But the Lord of Imladris wished this was the first time Estel had been in such a dire situation.

Estel seemed to bring disasters upon himself wherever he went, especially when he was Legolas. Every elf in Rivendell seemed to think Elladan and Elrohir were the most troublemaking pair in Middle Earth, but Elrond believed Aragorn and Legolas could give the twins a run for their money. Not to say that twins weren't trouble…

Elrond hadn't lost hope yet, but he didn't see how they were going to get out of this. He looked back at Estel, his foster son's bloody brown hair cascading over his face. Studying the towering trees around them, he wondered where Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were now. Because he didn't believe for one second that they had obeyed him and stayed in Rivendell…

Turning his gaze towards the starry heavens, he sent a silent prayer to the Valar. They had to get out of this… _saes_."

TBC…

 _Athelas – A healing herb that grows throughout Middle Earth, also known as Kingsfoil_

 _Mellon-nin – My friend_

 _Sindarin – A commonly used language among the elves, also called the Grey Tongue_

 _Ada – Father_

 _Yenì – Elvish equivalent to 144 years_

 _Saes – Please_

 **Another chapter done! It wasn't** _ **really**_ **a late update, only a week and a couple of days since the last one. If you want a certain character in the next chapter scenes, please review or PM me :) I hope everyone who read it enjoyed it!**


	9. A Slender Hope

**A/N**

 **Alright, Chapter 9! I have decided to do some POV writing for the 'bad guys', just to make the story a little bit more interesting, instead of just all the same characters! But probably not in this chapter, maybe the next one. Thank you to anyone who PM'ed or reviewed, I have replied to you via email :)**

Chapter 9

Legolas sprinted hurriedly through the trees, running back to Rochiril. They were running out of _athelas,_ and Elrohir was still unconscious.

The fair-haired prince was exhausted; he had never really gotten the chance to recover from travelling to Rivendell from Mirkwood. Although nothing could have stopped him from coming after Estel, his worry for his best friend had reached an almost unbearable state.

Legolas snapped out of his thoughts when he reached Rochiril, the newly washed white mare still tethered to a large oak tree. Striding over to the mare, he gently pulled the saddlebags from the horse's flanks, searching the bottom of the pack for anymore medical supplies. He breathed in relief when he found a pack of dried _athelas_ and a small sprig of _seregon._ Hastily untying Rochiril from the oak, he mounted the elven steed and silently urged her in the direction of the twins.

As Legolas sat atop the mare, his shoulders sagged in weariness. He hadn't slept properly for days, and _Valar_ , he needed to. He raised a tired hand to push a strand of dishevelled blonde hair, which had come loose of his braids, back behind his ear. Nudging Rochiril to go faster, he tried not to picture how terrible he must look right now, with his blonde hair in frizzy, matted strands, and how much the twins were going to tease him for it when all this was over. If it would ever be over…

No. The prince mentally scolded himself. He had to stop thinking as negative as he was. It wasn't healthy, and right now it definitely wasn't going to help Elrohir or Estel. Right now, Elladan needed healing herbs, and he, Legolas, was going to focus on completing that simple task.

After what seemed like forever, Legolas spotted the tree that Elladan had set up camp under. The tree that the elder twin was tending to his brother under was massive, almost as large as the huge _mallorn_ trees that grew in Lothlórien. He slid off Rochiril and landed gracefully on the leaf-strewn floor.

As if in a trance, Elladan was repeatedly murmuring to his twin, not once diverting his eyes or even showing any sign that he noticed Legolas's return. Chewing the inside of his cheek, the prince saw that the bowl of _athelas_ water was completely empty.

Striding quietly over to Elladan as so not to startle him, Legolas noticed the _Sindarin_ Elladan was speaking to his brother was a string of encouraging and jesting words.

"Come on, _muindor_ , you know how furious _ada_ will be if he has to patch you up again! And Estel and I will be forced to mother you to no end. It is only a simple arrow wound! Will you really let the elves of Imladris and Mirkwood tell the tale of how the mighty Elrohir was slain by an _edan's_ single arrow?"

Legolas brow creased in worry. He and Elladan had studied the arrow that Elrohir had been struck with for hours. At first they had thought it was an orc arrow, as the other races of Middle Earth rarely used poison-coated black arrows. But, considering the circumstances, no orc would shoot a single arrow at one of the Firstborn, or let an elf survive. Unless they never expected the elf to survive in the first place…

No. Instead, they had come to the more likely conclusion that Elrohir had been shot by a man. They highly doubted that it had been Morcion himself who shot the young son of Elrond, but nothing was definite.

Shaking his head and snapping himself out of his worry-induced stupor, Legolas called out softly to Elladan.

" _Mellon-nin_ , I found some more herbs. But use them wisely, that is the last of them, and we never know how badly Estel or Lord Elrond might need them when we find them." Legolas advised him reluctantly.

Elladan turned around abruptly, blinking in surprise when he saw Legolas standing by Rochiril, wearing an anxious expression.

He nodded. "You are right, _Thranduillion_."

Under normal circumstances, the eldest son of Elrond would have known that Legolas despised that name, but right now he was having enough trouble coping with the situations at hand. Mainly on how to heal Elrohir, and how he was going to find the rest of his beloved family.

Reaching out to take the herbs from Legolas, Elladan's brow creased. "Is this _seregon_?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes." Seeing the confused look on Elladan's face, Legolas asked; "Why? Is that unusual in Rivendell?"

Elladan bit his lip. "No, it's just… _seregon_ is a lot more effective on humans than it is on elves, so it is not commonly a herb that _ada_ would carry around with him normally." The eldest son of Elrond's face became even more lined with worry. "He must know that Estel needs help."

Legolas looked at Elladan. "You don't know that, _mellon-nin_ , Lord Elrond might just have brought it just in case."

Elladan whirled around, intense worry fuelling his anger. "Legolas! _Seregon_ isn't even stocked in Rivendell! _Ada_ must have picked it on his way here! Do you know what that means? Father must have foreseen it!" He shouted bluntly.

Legolas recoiled in surprise. "Calm down, Elladan. Right now, Elrohir needs you." He said cautiously.

The eldest twin breathed heavily. "Sorry, _mellon-nin_ , you are right." He said guiltily, his grey eyes flashing regretfully. He turned back to face his younger twin, already beginning to crush some of the _athelas_.

Legolas sighed. "No apology necessary, Elladan, we are all on edge right now."

Kneeling beside Elladan, Legolas reached out a placed a hand on Elrohir's forehead. He felt an unnatural heat there. He frowned. Elrohir had a fever, but elves didn't get sick. At least not under normal conditions…

Estel blinked wearily. He opened his eyes, but for a few seconds all he saw was blinding light. Everything seemed surreal. For the first time in what felt like forever, Aragorn felt no pain. He was floating, floating in a world where nothing mattered, and nothing ever would. His eyelids opened and closed, but he continued to see an aesthetically blank oblivion.

But a small voice was constantly bugging him in the back of his mind, telling him that he couldn't rest now, he needed to wake up.

He sighed inwardly. There was always a voice. Why couldn't anyone just let him be in peace for one brief moment? Not even his conscience would leave him be. He didn't want to wake up from this perfect nothingness. But it was too late. He was beginning to awaken, and at a rapid pace.

Suddenly, his battered body caught up with his brain. All kinds of hurt washed over him. His aching shoulder jolted painfully, and his throbbing skull becoming more agonizing with every second that passed.

His vision still impaired, he swayed dangerously, struggling to keep his balance every time his horse took a step. Wait… a horse? Where was he?

Now fully awake, Estel flicked his dark hair out of his eyes, whipping his head around and taking in his surroundings.

His numb wrists were still restrained. He was sitting atop a large black stallion, and said horse seemed to be in a bad-tempered mood.

He swivelled in his saddle as much as his bonds would allow him, rolling his eyes when the infuriated horse whined in annoyance.

Ignoring his infected shoulder, Aragorn surveyed the atmosphere. Rain was softly falling from the sky, joining the sweat on his forehead and trickling down the side of his face. A group of about thirty horses were riding in single file, with the exception of his horse, which was flanked by two guards each about ten metres away from him. Perfect, he thought sarcastically.

Looking down when his horse whinnied again, Aragorn was taken aback. The horse he was sitting on was the horse he had taken to look for Legolas in the first place!

Bending down near the horse's ear, he whispered softly in Sindarin.

"It's you, my friend! How did you end up here?"

The stallion neighed proudly. Estel laughed, despite the intense pain he felt coursing through the entire left side of his body.

He whispered to the horse. "I'm going to name you _Tangaa_."

Estel smiled slightly to himself, momentarily forgetting what was originally troubling him.

Another wave of nausea swept through him, forcing him to sit up straight again and take some of the pressure off of his shoulder.

Mentally scolding himself for showing weakness if front of the men, Estel had a sudden realisation.

He had absolutely no idea where they were headed. He flew into a panic. They were leaving the outskirts of Rivendell! His last hope had been that he was close to home, and that surely someone would stumble upon him with time. But no, they were leaving!

He was never going to see his beloved brothers or his father again, or Legolas…

And then it hit him.

 _Ada_!

It was all coming back to him now. The last thing he remembered before falling unconscious was his father's concerned, but relieved face, staring at him desperately from across the camp. And Commander Donngal's cursed face, twisted in a grotesque smile, smirking at him from atop his massive bay stallion.

Suddenly, an unexpected rage flew through him. Morcion and Donngal were cowards. They would capture him and his father to get what they wanted, instead of making it a fair fight, like a true warrior would. A man like that had no honour whatsoever.

Commander Donngal was the kind of person who would shoot someone when their back was turned. He was the kind of person who would do anything for money, no matter what the consequences were. Estel had no doubt that this was the type of man that would sell his soul to the devil without hesitation. His arms shook with distress.

No, he couldn't panic now; it wouldn't serve him at all in this situation. He took a deep breath, trying to settle the raging turmoil in his mind. Where was his father? He couldn't see him in the group of cavalry around him, but that didn't mean anything. The horses were in single file, and the line went far into the distance. He just had to cross his fingers and hope that his ada was safe.

Valar, how were they going to escape this? He tried to adopt more common sense.

He lived in a household full of elves, the most skilled trackers in Middle Earth. Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were some of the most experienced elves on this side of the Sundering Seas. If there was the slightest path to follow, they would find it.

Aragorn abruptly realised that there might be no path left behind. The men were taking the path he had originally expected, carefully leaving a wide berth around Imladris and travelling over rocky plains rather than boggy marsh, which would easily leave imprints of the horses' hooves.

The dark-haired ranger stared despondently at the large flat rocks they were making their way over, the slowly increasing rainfall taking care to wash away any evidence of them ever being here…

He was sorely missing his partner in crime. Legolas was almost always caught up in these situations with him, and together they would find a way out of the mess they had gotten themselves into. But he was alone this time, and it made it feel so much more _real_. Of course he was glad that for once his fair-haired friend was out of immediate danger, (well he hoped so) but he needed the prince's light humour and encouragement to give him faith.

The young ranger shook his head. 'Snap out of it' he thought to himself. 'Legolas isn't here this time; you are on your own.'

Estel raised his pounding head to the cloudy heavens. _You are on your own…_

Lord Elrond desperately struggled to look over the horses around him, searching for his son. Last he had seen him, Estel had been unconscious on an elven horse, flanked by a pair of guards. But that had been almost an hour ago, and between keeping an eye on Morcion and trying futilely to loosen his bonds, he had lost sight of his foster son.

Once again he restrained himself from calling out for Estel. He didn't want to draw any more unwanted attention to his defenceless son, who was already gravely injured and needed medical attention.

Elrond let out a long sigh of barely controlled fury and frustration. Morcion was taking his anger out on Aragorn, because of a single action that had taken place several hundred years before the young ranger ever existed. An action that had been his own decision…

Elrond chewed the inside of his cheek. To be honest, he wasn't all that surprised that they had ended up in this situation. Estel was bound to find any potential danger within a thousand leagues. The Lord of Imladris and everybody in The Last Homely House had come to expect that.

He was only glad that Legolas had not arrived a few days earlier. The only way to make a bad situation worse was to put Aragorn and the young prince of Mirkwood together. And the last thing he needed was a wounded Legolas and an angry King Thranduil on top of the other disasters he already had to manage.

Besides, if Estel and Legolas were together, it only meant the twins would be on their way. Ah, the twins. They would amplify the level of catastrophe in the span of ten seconds. Elrond squeezed his eyes shut. Why was he cursed with such unmanageable sons?

He smiled slightly. They may have felt like a curse sometimes, but each of them were blessings, and he loved them dearly.

Elrond squared his jaw. To be honest, he didn't know what he was going to do. He had left Rivendell in a panic for Estel, without clearly thinking through a plan. He only knew one thing. He had to save his son…

Elrohir rolled his eyes at his youngest brother, still secretly overjoyed at having found him. He sat down beside him. The grass was so soft, and the air was so warm, and he was so very tired…

Elrohir let out a low groan as he felt the hand of his older brother push him softly back onto the ground.

The muffled voice of Elladan reached his ears.

"Don't get up, _muindor_ , you know better than that." His brother scolded him. His voice was teasing, but the youngest twin heard the slight undertone of worry in Elladan's voice.

Why was Elladan worried? What had happened? Had he dozed off? And where was Estel! He wanted to talk with him. It seemed like forever that he had last seen him.

Still half awake, Elrohir could barely contain his excitement. He missed his human brother deeply.

Slowly, Elrohir peeled open a single eyelid. As he expected, light shot straight into his unadjusted eye, temporarily blinding him and causing him to clutch his temples in pain. Elrohir could have sworn the Valar hated him. Why was it always daytime when these sorts of thing happened? Despite being an elf, sunlight was not something he really cared for at this moment.

Automatically curling up into a ball, his lower abdomen screamed in protest.

The dark-haired twin froze. He didn't know why he was hurting, but he knew from experience that it was just best to stop moving. He waited patiently for the pain to subside.

Suddenly the comforting voice of Elladan floated down from somewhere above him. Elrohir blanched. He had forgotten that his twin was here. Bleary-eyed, Elrohir shot up from where he had been lying, his pain momentarily forgotten.

"Where is Estel?" He blurted out. His stomach throbbed. What was wrong with his stomach? He looked up at his older brother, squinting to make out his twin against the sunlight behind him. Soft rain began to drizzle from the sky.

Elladan froze. "What?"

Elrohir scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "I said, where is Estel? I thought he was here. I saw him!" He exclaimed, puzzled.

Elladan crouched down beside his twin. "Elrohir, we haven't seen Estel for six days. Whatever you saw, it wasn't real." The eldest twin said sadly.

Elrohir stared at his brother with dismay. "No! No, I saw him, I talked to him, it was real…"

The youngest twin covered his face. _It hadn't been real, had it?_

Elladan put a gentle hand on Elrohir's shoulder. He pulled it away when he heard a strangled sob come from his younger twin.

Pulling Elrohir's hands away from his face, Elladan peered into the young _Elrondion's_ face. Elrohir's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, his lower lip trembling faintly in a futile attempt to stop them falling.

"It wasn't real…"

Leaning forward, Elladan enveloped his younger twin in a gentle but firm hug, while furiously fighting back tears of his own.

"It doesn't matter, _muindor_ , we are going to find him anyway."

Elrohir pulled away, the rain mingling with his now freely flowing tears as they rolled down his cheeks.

"How can you say that Elladan? He has been missing for six days. _Six days!_ And apparently even _ada_ has failed to find him! And if Morcion finds out Estel is really the heir of Isildur, he will have no chance-"

"No! Elrohir, I have spent the last day thinking I was going to lose my twin, as well as _ada_ and Estel, but you finally woke up! Miracles can happen, and they will. You just have to let them!"

Elrohir nodded slowly, shivering as the rain began to soak through his clothes. He moved to stand up, shakily brushing away the last of his tears, but Elladan stopped him.

"Don't move too much, you might tear the stitches."

Confused, the youngest twin looked down at the linen cloths wrapped around his midsection. Finally, it all came back to him.

"Elladan! Someone attacked me! I think they shot me, but that's not the point, they might have been the people who took Estel-"

Elladan interrupted him. "We know, Elrohir, but whoever it was, they left. When we found you, you were unconscious with an arrow in your lower stomach. The arrow was _poisoned_ , _muindor._ If Legolas didn't find the herbs in _ada's_ saddlebag, you would be dead. I am not letting you move from this spot, brother, please just for once be grateful to be alive."

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "Stop mothering me." He frowned suddenly. "Where is Legolas?"

Elladan looked back absent-mindedly. "He went to scout the clearing."  
Turning back around to face his brother, Elladan blanched when he met Elrohir's burning gaze.

" _What_?"

"Do I need to remind you what happened the last time one of us scouted alone? It's dangerous! I, Elladan, am living proof!" Elrohir said stunned.

Elladan chewed his lip while looking at his twin guiltily.

Suddenly a crashing came from the undergrowth in front of them. Elladan whipped an arrow out of his quiver and strung it onto his bow in rapid succession. Elrohir reached unconsciously for his twin daggers that were strapped onto his back.

Rochiril burst into the clearing, Legolas right behind her.

Elladan sighed in annoyance. "Valar, that horse…"

Elrohir snorted in a very unelvish way.

Legolas, panted, out of breath, clearly having hurried back here. His eyes flashed in relief when he saw that the younger twin was awake, but apparently there was a more pressing matter that needed to be taken under advisement.

"Elladan, Elrohir! I found a trail, but there are much more men than we expected! If the tracks are real, which I believe they are, there are no less than thirty men. If we mean into infiltrate their camp, we need a company, or a small army."

The twins' minds whirled, trying to process this new information.

"How fresh are the trails?" Elrohir asked, not daring to believe that they might have found Estel at last.

Abruptly, Elladan turned towards his brother.

Legolas breathed in deeply. "The tracks are only a few hours old, but we must hurry if we mean to follow them. Morcion has chosen to travel over the rocky plains in an attempt to hide the evidence of them travelling here."

Elladan wasn't about to waste any time. He whirled around to face his younger brother.

"Elrohir! You must go back to Rivendell and warn Glorfindel! We need a group of elves to ride out here as quickly as possible."

Elrohir stared at Legolas and Elladan in shock. "Why me!"

Legolas sighed. "Elrohir, you know as well as we do that you are not in the condition to come on this mission. We need stealth and strength, and you are wounded."

Even though Elrohir knew it was true, he utterly refused to go. He wasn't going to miss his chance at finding his youngest brother.

He clenched his jaw in denial. "No."

Elladan closed his eyed. "Elrohir, we know you want to be a part of Aragorn's rescue, but without reinforcements that might not be possible. Go find Glorfindel, as quickly as you can."

Legolas looked at Elrohir with big, sliver-blue pleading eyes.

" _Saes, mellon-nin._ For Estel's sake."

Elrohir nodded slowly. "Fine. But if I get back here in time, there is nothing either of you can do to stop me joining the fight."

Legolas and Elladan exchanged an exasperated look.

Elrohir walked to Rochiril, gently stroking the horse before mounting her slowly.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Nudging the white mare, Elrohir started to canter into the trees.

"If you come back and I find that you have torn your stitches _muindor,_ Valar help me, I will kill you myself!" Elladan called after him.

Legolas smiled slightly, turning to the worried Elladan.

"He will be fine, _mellon-nin._ " He said reassuringly.

The pair turned to the edge of the forest, prepared to follow the trail that would lead them to the heir of Isildur.

Elladan sighed.

"Lead the way, Legolas."

TBC…

 _Athelas – A healing herb that grows throughout Middle Earth, also known as Kingsfoil_

 _Seregon – A blood-red flower with healing properties that grew in the hills of Amon Rhûn_

 _Mallorn – A huge Elven tree that grew in Tol Ereassëa, Númenor and Lothlórien_

 _Muindor – Brother_

 _Ada – Father_

 _Edan – Man (human)_

 _Mellon-nin – My friend_

 _Thranduillion – Son of Thranduil_

 _Saes – Please_

 _Elrondion – Son of Elrond_

 **Chapter 9! My longest chapter :) Haha I'm so happy. Please leave your thoughts in a review or a PM if you liked it! My updates might become a little less frequent, but they will be longer to try make up for it :)**


	10. Last Chance

**A/N**

 **Finally everything is starting to come together! I am soooo sooo sorry for how late this is, but I got caught up in everything else :/ For those of you who asked, there will still probably be a couple more chapters.** _ **Probably**_ **. Thank you to anyone who read this!**

Chapter 10

Captain Lucien scowled at himself. No matter how hard he tried to push the young human out of his mind, the more sympathetic he felt. He was forever wrestling with himself on if he should help the ranger or turn a blind eye.

He paced back and forth indecisively. How was he even pondering this? His family was at stake. His wonderful, beloved wife and son were at risk. How could the fate of one irritating _dúnadan_ possibly be equal to that of his family? It was a simple choice. And yet, in so many ways, it wasn't.

"We are leaving again in a few minutes, Captain Lucien."

Lucien flinched, whipping around to see his Commander looking at him. Lucien stared back at Donngal, letting his pride show in his unwavering gaze. The Commander's watery blue eyes glinted cruelly. Donngal seemed to look straight through him, as if somehow Lucien's thoughts were suddenly exposed to him.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Lucien carefully shifted his gaze, pretending to look behind Donngal where the company was preparing to get back on the path that would lead them to Rhûn.

Against his will, Lucien's eyes flitted back to meet his Commander's gaze. Donngal was studying him, a suspicious expression on his obnoxious face.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, Captain?" Commander Donngal's voice drawled unpleasantly.

Mentally steeling himself, Lucien tried to shake the feeling that his Commander could see his thoughts.

"No, Commander, I was just thinking of the ranger. He is in quite a pitiful condition. Perhaps he should be treated before we set off again. I am sure if he were to die, Lord Elrond would not take it so well. I would hate to disappoint King Melehta by showing up with a grief-stricken, uncooperative Elf Lord."

What happened next unsettled Lucien greatly.

The Commander tilted his head slightly, a subtle smirk spreading across his marred features. A small smile that seemed almost… _triumphant_.

"I would say, _Captain_ , have you have grown a bit of a soft spot for the ranger."

Sneering at his second in command one last time, Commander Donngal pushed past Lucien, leaving the Captain to ponder what the meaning behind that conversation really was.

"Back to the road! We are to reach Rhûn before dawn tomorrow!" Donngal shouted to the company.

Lucien turned around gravely to watch the men gather their cavalry and prepare for what was going to be a long, long night.

Lord Elrond clenched his jaw in fury when orders to continue riding were shouted throughout the ranks. He was barely wounded but incredibly exhausted, and the thought of more tedious hours of traveling between a pair of Morcion's unreasonably gruelling soldiers was more than he could take. Against his will, his mind drifted back to his sons and Legolas. Valar, he hoped Legolas and the twins had opted for the wise choice and stayed out of trouble, but to him, the odds were slim. And Estel… poor, poor Estel. The _Ainar_ seemed to take out all their frustration, spite and pure inquisitiveness on his precious, innocent foster son. Well… maybe not so innocent. The mischievous ranger had done some things that weren't quite above suspicion, but of course, nothing that was deserving of this punishment.

And that brought Lord Elrond's thoughts back around in a vicious loop. _Morcion. Donngal._ At the moment, all of the disasters that Rivendell and Mirkwood had been dealing with could be traced back to them. If only his hands were free, and he still had a weapon with him… Morcion's throat would be slit faster than anyone else in this cursed company could react. But, unfortunately, Elrond's 'helpless' façade had been seen right through, and the beautiful gilded dagger that was gifted to him by Galadriel, which he kept concealed in his boot had been taken from him.

The Lord of Rivendell returned to his surroundings. He had never been given the liberty to dismount his horse in the first place, so he looked along in annoyance at the semi-refreshed soldiers who were returning to their saddles.

Once again, the group had formed a single file, except for the pair of guards at each prisoner's side. And that's what caught Elrond's attention.

Up ahead, the Half-Elven's keen eyes caught sight of a massive black stallion, a horse that could only be an elven breed. Atop the huge steed, he spotted a limp figure, the lithe, fragile figure of a wavy haired man who could only be Estel.

Elrond's heart sped up. He wanted so desperately to call out to his son, to see if he was alright. But from the sight of it, he wasn't, and common sense kicked in. If he drew more attention to the completely helpless ranger, or somehow enraged the guards around the young man, he was afraid it would result in him being injured even worse.

No. For now, all he could do was sit and wait, and pray to all the Valar that he didn't lose sight of his son. And if those damned guards hurt him, he would see to it personally that they wouldn't be alive much longer…

Elrohir's white mare crashed through the undergrowth. Rochiril galloped as fast as she could, sensing how urgent the situation was. Elrohir goaded her on as best as he could, being careful not to tear the stitches Elladan had sewn into his stomach.

Elrohir couldn't focus. His mind was whirring with thoughts about Estel, his seemingly realistic dream, his father, the new trail they had found, and his throbbing wound. And of course, how he was leaving the battle scene, his brothers, and his friend behind.

Legolas and Elladan had tried to convince him that his task was vital to the rescue mission, but deep down, the youngest twin of Elrond knew he was just running away.

Nevertheless, he galloped towards Rivendell at top speed. He wasn't about to let anything get in the way of a chance of saving his brother.

Elrohir's eyes streamed with angry tears. It was so unfair. One moment, Estel had been happy, playing pranks, waiting for Legolas to arrive. And then, because of the cruel heart of another cursed elf, Estel was caught up in a fatal dilemma, suffering for something he didn't deserve in the slightest.

He should have been there; he should have helped the young ranger when he was attacked. Elrohir's entire demeanour softened, his eyes becoming redder by the second. _No._ He couldn't fall apart now, not when the stakes were so high. He had to reach Rivendell.

He wished Elladan was here to help him through this little guilt trip, but alas, he wasn't. But now wasn't the type for regretting past actions. Now was the time to take a better action. And he wasn't going to achieve that by breaking down before he reached Glorfindel with news of what had happened.

His stomach throbbing was worsening, and a severe headache began to grow at the front of the youngest twin's head. He gritted his teeth. Of course, with his luck, his wound was probably infected. He hardened his resolve. That was only another reason why he needed to reach the sanctuary of his home as soon as he possibly could.

Leaning down towards Rochiril, he gave the hard-working mare a reassuring pat on the neck. _Not far now…_

Legolas quietly laid down one foot after the other. Looking back behind him at Elladan, he gave a reassuring smile. They had been following the track for a few hours now, and it was only recently that they had stopped sprinting and began to track more cautiously. They both doubted they were near enough to alert any of Morcion's group, but they weren't about to take any chances before help arrived.

Pushing back a strand of his own blonde hair, Legolas vaguely wondered how this whole thing was going to turn out. Of course, he would like to think that he, the twins, Elrond and Estel all got out of this preferable unscathed and unharmed, with Morcion either dead or out of the way. But it was time to be realistic.

Although Legolas and Estel had made some extremely spectacular escapes together, it might be different this time. According to Morcion's note, this particular attack had been planned out thought out for a long time. It was no spontaneous, dangerous attack like they were so used to. It might not be that easy this time.

Of course, one of their largest reliance was on Elrohir and Rochiril. The sooner Glorfindel could be warned and build up an army, the better. As of now, Legolas and Elladan planned to trail the company and keep an eye on them until help arrived. But then a thought struck the young prince. What if it didn't come?

"Elladan," Legolas said haltingly, "I don't really want to dwell on this, but what if we need another plan?"

Elladan's strained face hardened. "What do you mean?"

Legolas felt nothing but sympathy for the oldest son of Elrond. All in the span of a week, Elladan had lost his youngest brother and his father, and he didn't know if he would ever get them back. Additionally, not three hours ago, he had been forced to send his twin away, hopefully to safety, but with the _Peredhel_ family, the chances were it wouldn't be so safe. But he knew Elladan wouldn't want his sympathy, so he swallowed his pity.

"You know as well as I do that the chance Glorfindel will manage to bring an army out here by tomorrow morning is slim. And if we do end up alone, we will need another plan." Legolas stated firmly, but softly.

Elladan stopped in his tracks, giving his fair-haired companion an exhausting, commiserative look. His cheeks were streaked with grime and blood from healing Elrohir, and his eyes were gaunt and sunken from lack of sleep. Legolas pitied his friend, although he knew he didn't look any better.

"Legolas, tomorrow morning, I am charging into that camp, with or without an army. Two of the people I hold dearest in this world are in there, and I will not stop until I either get them back, or die trying. You know I have no other choice, _mellon-nin."_

Elladan sounded close to tears. He looked at Legolas with swollen, drained silver eyes, which had none of their usual mischievous glimmer.

"Of course, Elladan," Legolas whispered solemnly. "And I will charge with you."

Elladan nodded slowly, and together, the two elves ventured on their path, carefully tracking the way towards Estel and Elrond.

 **TBC…**

 **Ok! Chapter 10! Again, I am soooo sorry about how late this update is. Please let me know what you think ;) Also, leave some suggestions about who else you would like for to be injured, because, lets face it, you are all a bunch of sadistic LOTR crazed fans (so am I, its ok).**

 **Thank you!**

 _Dúnadan – Man of the West, ranger_

 _Ainar – The Valar, 'Powers of the World'_

 _Peredhel – Half-elven_

 _Mellon-nin – My friend_


	11. Here We Come

**A/N**

 **I forgot about this story for a while, and I just checked the stats and I'm nearly at 5000 views and 50 reviews! Thanksss guysss (: I don't know where this story is going anymore, its working on the suggestions I got in my PMs, so message me if you want something added 3**

Chapter 11

Elrohir's pale face shone with a sweaty sheen. His side ached, his forehead burned with fever, and his eyes were beginning to droop. It was out of sheer determination that he didn't pass out in the saddle.

Raising a weary hand, the youngest twin attempted to wipe the sweat and tears that were mingling on his face from his eyes. His wound was clearly infected, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. But he'd be damned if he left his brothers and friend alone deliberately. He was going to reach Glorfindel or die trying.

Elrohir's breaths started coming in pained pants. His eyes fluttered slightly as he slumped forward on Rochiril, and his white mare gave a comforting whinny. As his head bounced against Rochiril's soft mane, he closed his burning eyes in shame and guilt. He was going to fail. Estel and Elrond were going to die, Elladan and Legolas were going to die, and it was all his fault. Tears of self-accusation fell from his grey eyes and flowed down his fevered cheeks.

The young elf continued to lay slumped over the horse's back, focusing on staying conscious. But he was startled from his remorse when he heard the distant sounds of many hoof beats up ahead.

Elrohir whipped his head up from Rochiril's mane, regretting the action as pain burned behind his eyes. Whispering to his horse soothingly, he carefully veered the horse off the path, enough to be concealed by the trees. The elf pulled the bow from his back and slung an arrow from his quiver, ready to defend himself against whoever was coming, despite his sluggish state.

His forehead rested against the cool bark of the tree trunk as Rochiril obediently stood still beneath him. He waited with bated breath as the sounds grew closer, ready to launch an arrow into the midst.

Aragorn groaned as he woke again, immediately closing his eyes again as bright light filtered its way into his tired eyes. He felt himself slightly swaying, and realised he must still be atop Tangaa, which meant Morcion's company was still travelling towards Rhûn.

He was sick of waking up like this.

Estel desperately wanted just to close his eyes and drift back off into nothingness, but knowing that his father was here now, that was simply not an option. He would lie low as not to alert Donngal's guard to his state of consciousness, while he slowly regained his strength.

Hearing heavy hoof beats rapidly approaching, the ranger quickly slumped over in his saddle again, listening to the commotion behind him.

"…. returned, Lord Morcion!" Estel tensed slightly at the use of the elf's name. Please, not now…

"The detour took a little longer than expected, Commander." Morcion's cruel voice sounded, confirming Estel's suspicions.

Donngal's whining voice reached the ranger's ears. "What was it that delayed you, my lord?"

Morcion's reply chilled Aragorn to the bone. "An elf. One of Elrond's spawn, no doubt. But it is not worth a second thought, he will not be any trouble, not anymore."

"What do you mean by that, my lord?"

"When I found the elf, he was half alive. Took an arrow in his side. He was without companions, so he is likely already dead. I tried to track whoever shot him, but there were no tracks to follow."

Donngal sounded confused.

"A single arrow is enough to fell an elf?"

The ranger shivered at Morcion's cold reply.

"A poisoned one, yes."

Donngal made a grunt in agreement. Estel tried fiercely to keep his swirling storm of emotions in check while he processed this new information. His panic rising, he tried to reason with himself.

Morcion was surely talking about Elladan or Elrohir. Even though the elf had stated the twin was alone, the ranger knew the twins were never far apart. With any luck, Morcion just hadn't spotted the other twin. But this did nothing to settle his worry. Unless the twins had the right herbs to treat a poisoned wound, his brother could truly have suffered a fatal wound. A new thought struck him. Provided that Legolas had really reached Rivendell, there wouldn't have been a chance in the world that he had let the twins leave by themselves. There was every chance that Legolas was here somewhere, aiding his brothers, and that brought him a little comfort.

Estel felt a wave of fatigue wash over him as he tried to fight back his guilt. His family, his best friend, they were all in this situation because Aragorn had allowed himself to be captured. Even if they got out of this and his family forgave him, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for placing them all in peril. Valar, why was he so stupid?

Shifting slightly on his mount, the ranger subtly moved his hand to the side of Tangaa's neck, and began whispering comforting words to his horse in Sindarin. He inwardly prayed to the Valar. _Please let it be okay this time._

Elrohir waited with bated breath, his bowstring pulled taut and his arrow ready to launch. The weary elf's hand began to quiver, and he accidentally let his arrow fly prematurely. In his injured state, he dazedly watched it whizz through the canopy a split second before the first horse came past. And never had he been so glad to miss his target. For atop the mount before his eyes sat a certain golden-haired elf who was _supposed_ to be in Rivendell.

"Glorfindel!" The youngest twin exclaimed, not daring to believe his eyes. It had appeared that the balrog-slayer had just rode past him, and he was at a loss for words. Illuvatar, this was too good to be true, was it not?

The golden-haired warrior sported a very undignified expression as a series of emotions flitted through him. Elrohir studied his mentor with detached amusement, watching the reactions on his face. Shock, surprise, relief, and finally fury. The young twin's face fell when he remembered why that might be.

" _Elrondion_."

Glorfindel's voice sounded positively murderous.

"Perhaps you would like to explain to me why you, your brother, and our _dear guest_ the prince of Mirkwood thought it fit to leave Rivendell, after I specifically told you not to?"

Elrohir distantly heard a break in the warrior's voice when he realized that the twin was severely injured and barely hanging onto consciousness.

"Elrohir? What happened? Confide in me, _pen-neth_ , and perhaps we shall discuss your incompetence later?"

Glorfindel sounded increasingly concerned now, trying to regain the elf's attention.

But Elrohir wasn't listening to his mentor. Because, filtering out from behind Glorfindel were at least twenty of Rivendell's best guards, and they seemed to have brought a small arsenal of weaponry.

The young twin's fevered face cracked into a grin. Right before he promptly passed out.

The two elves sat in silence across from each other. They had thoroughly scouted the area and had located the camp that held Estel and Elrond, but they couldn't get close enough to see if they were alright. It was incredibly frustrating for both of them not to charge into the camp, but they had promised they would wait until morning. That way they could properly scout the area and form a half-decent attack plan.

But for the time being, they were stuck here in the dark, not willing to take the risk of building a campfire and making their presence known to the enemy camp. There was no way they were going to jeopardise this rescue mission.

Elladan fiddled restlessly with the hilt of his knife, trying desperately to ignore the fact that his human brother and father were merely a few leagues away. Valar, it was so tempting, just to rush into the company and kill those responsible for threatening his family. But he knew he couldn't do that. He was being irrational. He only needed to wait until morning, and then nothing would be able to stop him. The eldest twin growled inwardly. He was going to make Morcion rue the very day he was born.

Still on edge, the dark-haired elf looked up across at Legolas, his elven eyes easily piercing the darkness as he studied his friend. In contrast to him, the prince looked weary and overwhelmed. _And for good reason,_ he thought condescendingly. In the span of less than a week, the blonde elf had journeyed across the mountains to Rivendell, been injured during the journey, reached the Last Homely House for less than a day, and promptly left again in search of his human friend before having fully recovered. It was a miracle the elf was still alive, much less still awake.

Seeing that the prince was in a dreamy state, Elladan called softly to him.

"Rest Legolas, I will take first watch."

Legolas's tired blue eyes gained some clarity after the twin's request brought him back to the present.

"You must be tired too, Elladan."

"Nay _mellon-nin_ , I have too much on my mind to rest. Do not worry, I will wake you halfway through the night for you to take your watch."

The fair-haired elf considered it, but did not seem convinced.

"You won't be any good to Estel and Elrond if you are dead on your feet, my friend," Elladan added strategically.

Legolas creased his brow in internal conflict, but Elladan's reasoning and his sheer exhaustion eventually won out.

"Fine, as long as you really do wake me for your own rest."

Elladan nodded assuredly, even though he had no real intention of waking Legolas. He really did need to recuperate. Satisfied, Legolas jumped up onto the low bough of a tree, settling comfortably against a branch. In less than a minute, he was asleep. Contented for the moment with Legolas asleep, Elladan gave a long sigh as he pondered what tomorrow might bring. But he knew only one thing for sure, and that was that he would fight with everything he had, and if that was not enough, he was going to bring Morcion down with him.

Elrohir felt miles better, courtesy of Glorfindel and his skills in the art of healing. After the twin had fallen unconscious, the company had stopped for roughly an hour, both to help the _Elrondion_ and to gather some more information about their current situation.

For about the fifth time, Elrohir tried to rise off his makeshift bedding of thin rugs and satchels, only to once again be pushed down by Glorfindel.

"We have only fifteen minutes before we set off again, Elrohir. _Rest_."

The younger twin scowled lightly, still grateful for the warrior's help and in disbelief for his timely appearance.

"Why did you feel the urge to abandon Rivendell and take nearly two dozen of the guards, Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked suspiciously.

Glorfindel turned his calm blue eyes on the young elf.

"I only stayed in Rivendell in the first place to ensure it was protected, as your father asked, Elrohir. But it seems that when Estel, Legolas and you and Elladan are absent, Rivendell is in no need of protection."

Glorfindel smirked slightly as Elrohir raised an eyebrow.

"I figured I would be of much more use here, and I know that Morcion is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, I left Erestor in charge, and he is more than capable."

Elrohir nodded slightly, his relaxed demeanour turning tense again at the thought of his brothers.

He looked at Glorfindel with heart-wrenching worry in his grey eyes.

"Glorfindel, we have to help them. All of them. They are depending on us."

The golden warrior smiled gravely as he offered the twin a hand.

"Well then I suppose we should go and save them."

Elrohir smiled gratefully and accepted the hand as Glorfindel began to pull him up, but stopped when the warrior leant in close.

"If you do _anything_ reckless, I'll tell Elladan that you tore every last one of his stitches, and I shall leave the punishment entirely up to him."

Elrohir gulped audibly, taking in this new threat. Glorfindel really did know how to initiate a compromise.

"Note taken," the dark-haired elf said seriously.

Grinning in satisfaction, Glorfindel hoisted the elf up onto a horse, mindful of his wounds, and turned back to address the elves behind him.

" _Drego morn!"_

The elves behind them took up the cheer, as they spurred their mounts in the direction of the slowly rising sun.

 **TBC**

 _Pen-neth – young one_

 _Drego morn – "flee night", a traditional elvish war cry_

 **Suggestions anybody?**

 **Thanks for not abandoning my fic despite the insanely long waits in between ;)**


	12. Kinda Unlucky

**AN**

 **Uhh, hi? Its only been an entire month since I last updated, that's got to be some kind of record, right? *ducks extremely heavy vase hurtling towards her head***

 **Eeshh, tough crowd then. Well anyway, here is chapter 12, with a little bit of Elladan angst for you sadistic psychos. And also, I've decided I'll stop responding to reviews via email, instead I shall do it at the end of each chapter. Why? *shrugs* I truly don't know why. I just feel like it *g***

 **Please enjoy! And remember I'm always open to suggestions.**

Chapter 12

Red sunlight struggled to filter through a thick canopy of clouds in an eerie dawn, the sky a sickening bloody colour. This gloom and doom atmosphere was definitely not something that was improving Aragorn's mood.

The man in question had been rudely awakened by one of Morcion's cursed henchmen at a kick to his bruised ribs, once again causing the ranger to internally wish everyone in this entire camp an incredibly painful death.

The ranger could have sworn his entire body had a headache. Bodyache? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that he hurt, and badly so. Even though that was something he would never admit to anyone but himself.

For that moment, Estel lied hopelessly in the modest tent that had been set up for him, which he supposed was just a precaution to stop him succumbing to his wounds in the cold and dying overnight. Something that Morcion actually seemed to be concerned about, undoubtedly only as he would lose his bargaining chip. Aragorn knew that if he were to die, there wouldn't be a chance in Middle Earth that Elrond would give the cruel elf anything.

The ranger mentally barred any worrisome thoughts of his friends and family, or he knew he would break down, one way or another. No, for now, all he could do was lie on the thick tent canvas and savour the last peaceful moments before he was forced to resume the journey towards wherever 'King Melehta,' resided.

With his emotions safely locked in a box away in the corner of his mind, the young human unconsciously began to relax, more than he had in almost two weeks. As he watched the ever-changing patterns of shadows dance across the tent roof, his eyes became unbearably heavy.

A few mere seconds away from being lulled into a blissful sleep, the ranger heard the quiet rustle of his tent being entered. He fought to regain proper consciousness, should it be Donngal or some equally demented man here to torment him once again.

Still struggling to open his eyes, he felt two strong hands grasp his bruised and tender shoulders. Moaning softly in pain, Estel opened his bleary grey eyes bracing himself for a cruel, sneering face. But that wasn't what he saw.

Not trusting his vision, the ranger looked up into the equally stormy grey eyes of his elven brother.

His voice cracked as he spoke, terrified to even dare believe it could be his brother.

"Elladan?"

* * *

Legolas fidgeted worriedly, covered by a thick growth of trees but near enough to the camp to hear any commotion that might occur.

Elladan had snuck into the camp only mere minutes ago, but to the elven prince it felt like decades. Their hope was that Elladan would sneak in undetected, locate and hopefully free Estel, with Legolas near enough to be back-up.

Recounting over their simple plan, the prince truly noticed how pathetic it was. It wasn't eloquent, or well thought-out.

It was desperate.

Taking another deep breath to settle his nerves, Legolas edgily watched from the trees. The silhouettes of the waking men was increasing, their forms made visible by the deep red sky that was coming to light through the black clouds. Yes, the elf thought. Today was going to be an incredibly cheerful day.

Still pondering and puzzling about the fact that wherever Estel ventured, trouble followed, the elf suddenly tensed, the muscles in his back going as taut as a fully drawn bowstring.

On this instinctual whim, the elf whirled around, but not quite in time.

Legolas lunged to the side, just enough that the sword being thrusted at him sliced through his side, instead of impaling him as his attacker intended.

Through the roaring pain in his side, the prince made out the fuzzy form of his attacker, and realised he was again charging forward to strike.

Now slightly more aware of his bearings, the elf sidestepped the attacker and twisted in with his elbow, forcefully shoving the assailant against the trunk of a tree. The figure dropped limply to the ground.

Still somewhat dazed, the elf dropped down to the lifeless form. It was a man, with wavy brown hair and pale skin. Legolas felt no victory though, this boy was young. Too young, perhaps with Aragorn being a few years his senior. No doubt this boy had been influenced, with cruel people twisting his naïve mind from an early age. These kind of people were given no choice, they just carried out the cruel bidding of harsh commanders.

Still solemnly gazing at the young man's pale features, Legolas rested his fingers on his throat, feeling for a pulse, nodding slightly when he found one. Still confused at why he was reluctant to leave this unconscious man, Legolas reminded himself the human would eventually wake up, even though he was more than likely to have a slight headache. Which, honestly, he deserved.

Rising up again, the elf shook himself mentally. He mustn't feel so sympathetic, the man still had cruel intentions. He may even have hurt Estel.

That thought was what jarred Legolas from his fervent thoughts; his human friend needed him.

His bleeding side forgotten momentarily, the elf resumed his attention on the human camp, now scoldingly reminding himself to be aware of his surroundings. He would be no use to Estel or Elladan should he be killed. Legolas winced a little, still hardly believing that a young, inexperienced human child had managed to sneak up on him. Varda Elentari, he must never let Aragorn know, or it truly would be the death of him.

Hushing his wondering mind, the elf forced himself to focus on the task at hand. But he found he couldn't, which, he stubbornly told himself, was _not_ due to his extensive blood loss. Of course not.

The elf just hoped with all his heart that today would not be a grievous day.

* * *

Elrond was going out of his mind with worry. He had not seen his son in a full day, and the Half-Elven's mind was pessimistically assuming the worse. Typical.

The elf lord's wounds had all but healed, but this did nothing to put him at ease. If anything, it was worse, as now he didn't have a distraction from worrying about his children.

He shifted uncomfortably against the unforgiving, stiff bark of the tree he was tied against, endlessly grateful as he knew his son was given a tent to rest in every night, courtesy of Captain Lucien. He knew his exhausted, wounded human son would not last a night in the brutally cold air of the oncoming winter.

That thought caused Elrond to wonder about the mysterious captain. Usually, humans were reasonably easy to read, save for Estel, and a multitude of his equally stubborn descendants. But this Lucien, he was another matter.

All Elrond knew was that the captain was loyal, fiercely so, in fact. The elf could see it in his proud blue eyes. But Elrond suspected that Morcion and Donngal were not on the receiving end of his loyalty.

The elven lord was by no means appreciative of Lucien, but he grudgingly acknowledged the fact that his human son may already be dead were it not for his actions.

For now silencing his thoughts, the _Peredhel_ quietly raised his gaze to the strikingly red heavens, his eyes darkening at its offensive colour.

A blood red sky had never been a cheerful day in the history of _Arda_ , that much he was sure of.

* * *

Elladan stared at his almost unrecognisable brother, the young human's face blue, purple and excessively swollen. Small slices were arranged in perfect scores along his cheekbones, as if the person responsible had an eye for symmetry.

Estel's eyes were bleary and unfocused. His cracked, bloody lips opened ever so slightly, but they made no noise, something that frightened the elf endlessly.

But then he heard him, just barely, over the rage roaring in his ears.

"Elladan?"

Estel's quiet voice sounded so confused and pain-filled that Elladan's heart clenched. But what was worse, was when Estel once again closed his eyes, apparently dismissing his elven brother as a figment of his desperate imagination, nothing more.

Elladan all but panicked, giving the _edan_ a soft shake as he squeezed his shoulders.

"No Estel, wake up, please, _muindor._ "

Estel moaned again in pain, and Elladan guiltily retracted his hands from the human's shoulders, relocating them to rest on his brother's too-warm cheeks.

Estel's eyes remained closed.

Elladan tried again.

"Come on, little brother, it's really me, I promise."

The twin's voice broke a little as the human's ashy face remained unresponsive. He took a deep, shaky breath and tried again, this time in Sindarin.

" _Euchio, muindor, De nathathol. An ngell nîn,_ _Estel, av-'osto."_

The elvish words must have reached deeper into Estel's muddled mind, for the injured man again opened his hazy grey eyes, with a touch more of alertness.

Elladan positively beamed in relief, somehow simultaneously still shaking with intense fury at the state of the ranger.

"Come, Estel, I swear I shall get you out of here. Can you stand?" Elladan's voice wobbled ever so slightly.

It was a stupid question, the twin admitted to himself, but he was babbling, clearly set on keeping his brother awake.

Estel however, had apparently only just realised his brother was there, in the flesh. Elladan almost recoiled under the disapproving stare his brother was giving him, despite being on death's door. He really didn't give the human enough credit for his insane stubbornness. Aragorn's accusing silver eyes were piercing, even surrounded by the green and purple hue that they glared from.

" _What,"_ the ranger's voice cracked, both in pain and in anger, " _are you doing here?_ You could have gotten yourself killed, _dolle naa!_ You still could!"

The eldest twin winced at the insult, or more accurately, the pain that Estel spoke it in.

"It's nice to see you too brother," Elladan smiled affectionately.

Despite his clear indignation, the wounded ranger cracked into what seemed a very painful, but very exultant smile.

"Come now, Estel, Legolas is waiting for us. We must go."

Elladan bent down to loop an arm across his brother's shoulders, and one across his waist, hoisting him off the ground.

Aragorn let out a pained groan that he quickly stifled. "No Elladan, please. The two of us will never make it out of here; I am too much of a burden. Find _ada_ instead, you might just escape with him."

"Don't be ridiculous, _muindor._ There's not a chance in the world I'm going to leave you here, Valar be my witness. I will return for father when I get you out."

But even as he said it, Elladan knew there was truth in his little brother's words. The young man had always been lithe and thin, but right now he was a dead weight, which made light, stealthy footsteps rather difficult. They were sure to be caught.

No matter, he told himself determinedly, as he secured his grip on his brother. Like he said, he wouldn't leave Estel here to perish, he would never. He would rather they die together, than himself escape without him.

Ignoring Aragorn's pained protests, Elladan turned towards the tent opening, gathering his nerve.

But that nerve dissolved in the span of a few mere seconds, when the scowling face of man appeared at the entrance of the canvas sanctuary.

Elladan and Estel groaned concurrently. They knew themselves to be unlucky, but it was truly getting out of hand. The Valar must have cursed them, after all.

A moment of shocked silence was suspended in the tent, until the assailant made the first move by swinging his sword towards the two brothers. Apologetically dropping Estel to the ground and pushing him out of harm's way, the elf raised his own blade to stop the strike.

The clanging blades seemed to resonate impossibly loudly throughout the camp, and if Elladan could have afforded to, he would have stared into the heavens with an eyebrow arched in disbelief. He was sure the Valar were playing cruel jokes on him now. Felling the human attacker but barely remembering doing so, Elladan waited with bated breath for more humans to come charging into the tent, alerted by the clashing swords.

The twin cast one more worried look at his again unconscious brother behind him, and then resumed his fighting stance at the tent entrance.

If they wanted his brother, they were going to get him.

Over his dead body.

* * *

 **Translations**

 _Peredhel – Half-Elven_

 _Arda – 'Region' 'Realm,' term for Middle Earth_

 _Euchio, muindor, de nathathol – Awaken, my brother, I will help you._

 _An ngell nîn, Estel, av-'osto – Please, Estel, don't be afraid._

 _Dolle naa – 'empty headed,' fool_

 _Ada – father_

 _Muindor – my brother_

 **AN**

 **Alrighty then! What did you guys think? As for when the next update will be, the Valar knows. *Winks* See what I did there? Haha, I'm funny, I know.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 Review Responses [:**

 **MistressOfImladris**

I know! New chapters are becoming rare aren't they? I do find it quite sad, but I honestly can't afford to make fanfiction a priority anymore, although I will never truly abandon it. Thanks for the linebreak suggestion! I guess if I actually proofread my fics I would have noticed it's a little confusing. Shame, I enjoy being ignorant *g* I hope you enjoyed this update! And I hope to see your review in the next chapter, whenever that may be!

 **Sophie Michard**

Yes, my poor, poor characters. They hate me, you know, especially Estel. For good reason, I guess, but we all know everyone wants the angst to keep coming. Am I right? *Crowd cheers maliciously* Yeah, I'm right. Well yes, I suppose you could say Elrohir was lucky, but it is one of the very few times. You know, Legolas and Elrohir are quite reckless, they very much might just get caught. Hehehe, isn't being sadistic fun?! Your welcome for the chapter, I just wish I could do it more often.

 **Daiser**

Yep, unfortunately I am not the most frequent updater. But no matter! I shall return, everytime, even if I am old and grey by the time I complete it. *Once again ducks heavy projectiles* No, no, I'm joking. Do not worry, twin angst is inevitable. It will come, and when it does, let's just say I will do my best to make it heart-wrenching. I shall tell Elrohir you expect him to do something stupid, I know he will be flattered. *Elrohir glares at her contemptuously* Uh, he's kinda scary. But also adorable. Thank you for your review!

 **Horsegirl01**

I appreciate it! The rest is coming, however slowly. I also doubt things will go smoothly for them, they are rather misfortunate, aren't they? *Legolas and Elladan stare accusingly* Oh gosh, they really despise me. I look forward to you reading the next chapter!


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